Return to Camp Blood
by Maerlyn of Miria
Summary: A group of teens go to Camp Crystal Lake for a week's vacation with unexpected, or not so unexpected results, and Jason finds love for the first time.  Chapter 4 is up.  Rated M for strong language, violent content, and  some implied adault themes.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

This story takes place between parts 1, and 2. Verious characters from the films, such as Ethel, and Junior, (Part 5,) Fox, Loco, and Ali, (Part 3,) and old crazy Ralph, (Parts 1, and 2,) will be encountered, as well as original characters of my own invention.

For Mike Richards, Friday, August 6, 1982, started out like any other day, but it was to end in a much different way than he would ever expect. He'd pretty much resigned himself to having to deal with his Christian parents for the entire summer, without so much as a single break. He'd already ended up in their bad-books, by having the bad luck to be caught listening to an episode of the radio horror series, "Nightfall," the previous week. He'd been subjected to a four hour lecture from both parents, about how such things would send him straight to Hell, with no hope of salvation, or even so much as a drop of water to cool his flaming tongue. Since then, he'd been watched by them constantly, his radio had been taken out of his room, and he'd been forbidden to close his bed room door at night. All his books, not that he had that many to begin with, had also been taken, and replaced with Christian crap he didn't even want to look at, let alone read.

He was sitting on the front porch, when a familiar blue van pulled into the driveway. The van in question belonged to Johnny Higgins, one of Mike's friends from Lakeview High.

"Good," he thought, as Johnny opened the door of the van, and got out, "now we'll have some fun."

"Hey, Mike," Johnny called, "you up for a little time away from it all?"

"I'm up for that any time," Mike answered, "but especially now."

"What's wrong?" inquired Johnny, "the Christian Crap Crew at it again?"

"Yeah, they are," Mike said, "this time, they left me without even a radio to my name, and as for my books, you can forget it."

"Well," said Johnny, "I guess it's a good thing you left some of your books at my place before the school year ended."

"Did you bring them?" Mike asked.

"No," said Johnny, an extremely mischievous smile lighting his face, "I only mentioned them to get your hopes up, and then, dash them."

At that moment, the door behind Mike opened, and Tammy Richards stepped out onto the porch. She looked, as always, as if she hadn't been dressed, but squeezed into her clothes. Today she was wearing a black dress which, in Mike's humble opinion, made her look like a cross between the wicked witch of the west, and the Grandmother from Flowers In The Attic.

"What are you doing here?" she asked Johnny, "Mike isn't seeing any one right now. He's on punishment."

"Is that right?" asked Mike, "I was totally unaware that I'd done something else to offend your God. What was it this time? Did I part my hair the wrong way again, forget to fall on my knees like an idiot on the seventh day of the week, or did I per chance suffer another witch to live. Really, I didn't mean to, but there are just so many of them lately. I can't figure out which one to kill first, or for that matter, how to do it. Should I burn the next one, hang her, or drown her? Or, maybe, I didn't bring enough money to church last week. What's the going price again? Was it a thousand dollars a week, or did it go up again? In my personal opinion, I shouldn't be paying a thing. I've been praying to your God to heal my sore left pinky toe for two months, and so far I've gotten no results."

Tammy raised her hand to slap Mike, but he ducked and said,

"If you hit me, I'm calling the cops. I'm sure they'd love to hear about abuse going on in this place. They already suspect you, and Dad of stealing money for your precious Pastor Dan, and an investigation's all you need right now."

"Shut up, and get in the house right now," said Tammy.

"Sorry," said Mike, "I'm not going, into the house, that is. Johnny came to take me on a little trip, and I'm going with him."

"Oh, no you're not," said Tammy.

"Try to stop me," Mike retorted, "you can't hit me. There's a witness, and you don't like to have any of those around. After all, having witnesses around when you abuse your 15-year-old son is against the laws of God. You could go to hell for it, not to mention, jail."

"Come on, if your coming," said Johnny, "I've got some other pick ups to make."

"Right with you," Mike said, and button hooked around the house to the back door, went into the house, and came out a minute later, carrying a large backpack.

"You're not going," said Tammy.

"Step on it!" Mike shouted as he got into the van, and slammed the door.

Johnny did as bid, and the van turned in a half circle, spraying Tammy Richards with gravel as it went. After they were clear of Mike's house, Johnny cut their speed a bit. They had been traveling at nearly 60 when they'd hit the road at the end of the Richards's driveway, but he didn't want to go that fast the rest of the trip. Doing that would most likely result in the whole lot of them, Mike, Johnny, and Johnny's most likely soon to be girlfriend, Brenda Fullerton finishing out the night in the Crystal Lake police station, waiting for their parents, and then, it would be right back to square one.

"Where to now?" Mike asked as he lit a cigarette, "You said we had some more pick ups to make. Do we brave the terrors of yet more Christians, or will our next stop involve us with a demon, or a dragon?"

"Very funny," said Brenda, "we're going to pick up Ann Miller next."

"Oh, great," said Mike, "first, the crazy Christians, and now, the sloppy sluggards."

"We're not buying anything in their store," said Johnny, "we're just getting Ann away from them for a week."

"I wouldn't buy anything from them if I were starving to death, fresh out of the cosmic deserts of Cthauhn, and theirs was the last store in the Mother fucking universe," Mike said, "if that sloppy son of a bitch Herald isn't eating out of the stuff on the shelves, he's bringing his fucking bunny-rabbits into the place, and letting them eat what he drops."

"The cosmic deserts of what?" asked Johnny, "I never heard of it."

"No, you wouldn't have," said Mike, "few people have."

"I wish I hadn't heard of Herald's eating habits either," said Brenda, "you've just succeeded in putting me off my lunch."

"I didn't know you were on it in the first place," said Mike.

"Ha ha," said Brenda, "very funny."

"Enough, you two," said Johnny, "we're here."

"Is Edna out front?" asked Mike.

"Not yet," Johnny replied, "but she soon will be."

The van came to a stop in front of, "Miller's Country Store, and Quickfill," and Mike, Johnny, and Brenda got out. They hadn't even reached the door, when it opened, and out stepped Edna Miller. As usual, she looked as if she'd never had a good day in her life. She stood on the front porch of the little store, to which the house was attached, scowling at the three of them.

"What the hell are you damn kids doing here?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Mike said immediately, "maybe we just dropped in to make your life a little more miserable. After all, you need something else to bitch about besides your old man, and his bunnies."

"Shut your mouth," said Edna.

"Bunnies, bunnies, bunnies, bunnies everywhere," Mike sang, doing his best to mimic a child's voice, "there's bunnies on the table, and there's bunnies on the chair, bunnies on the sofa, and there's bunnies on the floor, and there's some new ones coming through the door, more!"

"Get out of here, you little smart ass," said Edna.

"Or what?" asked Mike, "are you going to call the cops on us if we don't?"

The door opened again, and Ann Miller stepped out of the store, and tried to get around Edna. Edna, however, wasn't making that very easy. She would wait for Ann to begin moving, and then, block her way.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Mike said, "or you might end up on the ground, picking your falsies out of the flower garden."

"Shut up, kid," said Edna, "she's not going anywhere with you."

"Oh, yes I am," said Ann, "now, get out of my way before I knock you into the rosebushes."

Edna looked at Ann for a long moment, and then, apparently decided that she meant it, and backed off. That didn't stop her from continuing to give Mike, Johnny, and Brenda dirty looks, however.

"If you don't quit it," Brenda told her, "I'm coming up there to wipe the porch with your bitchy, loud-mouthed, ugly, sloppy, nagging ass."

"Can you fit any more adjectives in one sentence," asked Johnny.

"I can try," said Brenda, "do you want me to?"

"Not now," said Johnny.

"Hey," said Mike, "take a look at Ann."

There was plenty to look at. Ann Miller had dressed to go out. She was wearing a black formal dress with spaghetti straps, cut extremely low, showing the tops of her breasts to good advantage. The skirt she wore was also very short, and she had a great deal of leg showing. She had full, red, sensuous lips, and her full rosy cheeks bore the unmistakable color of sexy good health.

"Wow, Ann," Mike said in awe, "you look positively smashing."

"Yeah, and I'm going to smash some one in about two seconds," said Ann, "my Mother dear."

"You do not have the right to threaten me," said Edna.

"Oh, go bitch at King Slob the second some more," said Mike, "and get out of our face."

"Don't you mean our faces?" asked Ann.

"Yeah, I guess," said Mike, "but why'd you have to tell her? Now she knows a bit of grammar she didn't know before. It's not your job to teach her, nor is it your fault that she spent most of her time in school goofing off, and daydreaming about some movie star, or other."

"Which movie star?" asked Johnny.

"Probably Frankenstein," said Mike, "or the Deadly Mantis, or maybe the Tarantula."

"I didn't think her desires lay in that direction," said Brenda, "I was under the impression that a zombie would be more to her liking, an old, nasty, smelly decayed one."

"While you continue the unhealthy task of figuring out what my, err, Mother daydreams of," said Ann, "I'm going to find my cigarettes."

"You're not smoking in here," said Edna.

"That's right," said Johnny, "she smoking with us, in the van."

"Why did you bring the van when you have a car, Johnny?" Ann inquired.

"Well," said Johnny, "we'll need a van to get every one to our destination, where we'll be staying for a week."

"You're not leaving for a week," Edna said.

"Oh, yes I am," Ann said, "I'll be right back guys, I've got to get changed."

"What's wrong with what you're wearing now?" asked Brenda.

"Black absorbs the sun's rays," said Ann, "if I kept this on, in half an hour, I'd be so hot I could almost cook in it."

"You're not going," Edna said again.

"That record's getting old, and scratchy," said Mike, "change it."

Ann came back out a few minutes later, and got into the van, despite Edna's continued insistence that she wasn't going anywhere. She was now wearing tight blue slacks, and a button-down blouse. Beside her on the seat was a small suitcase, a makeup bag, and a tape deck. She was, in short, ready for anything.

"So, where are we going?" she asked.

"To the only place in the county where no one will give us any shit for having some fun," said Johnny.

"Where's that?" asked Mike, "I didn't think a place like that existed."

"Oh, one does," said Johnny, "and we're going to it as soon as we make a couple more stops."

"Where is this place?" Ann asked.

"Camp Crystal Lake," said Johnny, "no one ever goes up there, so no one's going to bug us."

"Nice how you never told me where we were going till now," said Brenda.

"Don't you want to go?" asked Johnny.

"Yeah I do," said Brenda, "but aren't you afraid that some one might murder us all in our beds, or something?"

"That's not going to happen," said Johnny, "my God, you should hear some of the things she comes up with sometimes. She said once that she heard about a family who bought a summer home up here, moved in, set up deliveries of food, and then, just stopped calling the few friends they'd made in town. She says that a neighbor got worried about them, broke into the house, and found them all butchered in their beds."

"God! Do you think that's true?" Mike asked Ann.

"No," Ann said distantly.

Ann wished that Johnny had told her where they were going before they had left the store. She would have paid more attention to how she looked if she'd known. She reached up to touch her face. Nothing seemed out of place there. She reached for her makeup bag, took out some makeup remover and a cotton ball. After removing her makeup, she began carefully applying it over again, adding a heavy-duty sunscreen to the regimen.

"How do you put on makeup in a moving vehicle?" Brenda asked.

"Carefully," Ann replied, still distantly.

"And how do you know that the story I told Johnny wasn't true?"

"I keep an eye on what goes on up there," Ann said. "Are we going to pick up Joan?"

"Yep!" Johnny answered.

Next, Ann took down her hair and began to brush it out. She brushed it until it was completely smooth, then, put it back up into a ponytail. She debated whether or not to add a little hair glitter, but decided against it. She didn't know what the condition of the camp showers would be, and no-rinse shampoo didn't get that stuff out well.

Ann leaned back, reached into her pocket and pulled out her cigarettes.

"Someone want to give me a light?" she asked. Unfortunately, Ann's fingers just weren't strong enough to flick the wheel on a cigarette lighter.

"Sure," Mike said. He leaned back as Ann leaned forward, and took the cigarette from her hand, lit it, and handed it back to her around the seat.

"Thanks," Ann said.

"No problem," Mike responded.

"I'm just glad you guys didn't drop that cigarette in my van!" Johnny said, looking extremely relieved.

"Don't shit yourself, Johnny," Ann assured him, amazing everyone as always with her ability to swear abundantly, and still make it sound elegant. "I never drop a cigarette, because that would be a waste."

"How do you get them, anyway?" Brenda asked.

"I lift them from the store. Don't worry, it's safe. They're the only things King Sloppy doesn't touch."

"If he could eat them," said Mike, "he'd probably get into them too, not to mention the cigars, and the chewing tobacco."

"That's one thing he doesn't do," said Ann.

"What?" asked Brenda, "eat that stuff?"

"Chew tobacco," said Ann.

"Give him half a chance," said Mike, "and he'd try it. Anything to be an even bigger slob than he is now."

After making a stop at the only reputable grocery store in Crystal Lake, the one not owned by the Millers, where you could actually get every thing you could possibly wand, including cigarettes, without having to worry about the food having been presampled, they picked up Joan Carlton. There were no incidents during the pick up either. She seemed to be one of the only young people in the whole county whose parents weren't either raving Christian nuts, or obnoxious assholes. She got into the van, carrying her suitcase, radio, and purse.

Ann moved over, and Joan sat down beside her. Soon, Joan was helping Ann with her hair. She had always been able to do the most creative things with people's hair. Some people, including her parents saw a bright future for her as a beautician, not that she wanted to spend the rest of her life behind a barber's chair.

"Who are we picking up next?" asked Mike.

"Beth Porter," said Johnny.

"You'd better hope Donna Blake's not with her," said Brenda, "or we'll have nothing but trouble this week."

Before they reached Beth Porter's house, however, they encountered Ethel Hubbard, and her loud, obnoxious, and not too bright son, Junior. No one knew what his actual birth name was, nor did any one care. He was just Junior, also known in some quarters as, "that loud fucking son of a bitch." They had stopped along the side of the road, the ever present old, beaten up, dented dirt bike they used for transportation leaning on it's kickstand beside them, and were apparently just looking into the woods. As the van passed them, some dirt flew out from under the tires, and into Ethel's hair. At once, her concentration, and that of Junior left the woods, and centered on the van. They started foreword with Ethel leading the way. When she reached the van, she began hammering on the driver's side window.

Johnny opened the door, and said, "Quit banging on my fucking window!"

"Now, you listen to me fella," Ethel said, shaking her finger in Johnny's face, "you got us all fuckin dirty. You got no respect for your elders, but I'm gonna learn you some."

"You tell em Ma!" shouted Junior.

"Ethel," said Johnny, "quit shoving that finger into my face, or I'll break it off, and feed it to my dog."

"You shut your trap, and mind what I'm sayin," said Ethel, "your gonna learn respect if I got to beat it into you."

"Say it like you mean it ma," Junior yelled.

"You shut your fuckin trap!" Ethel said, turning to junior.

"Now, there's a marvelous example of parent-to-child interaction," said Ann, "remind me never to take parenting lessons from her."

"You shut up too!" Ethel shouted at Ann, "or I'm gonna chop you into itty bitty little pieces my friend!"

"Yeah!" Junior added, his voice even louder than that of his Mother, "my mama's gonna chop you up into itty bitty pieces my friend!"

"Would you shut the fuck up?" Ethel shouted, turning back to Junior.

Johnny, meanwhile, had apparently decided that he'd heard enough of Ethel, and Junior's Stupidity Fest, for one afternoon, shut the van door, nearly taking Ethel's fingers off in the process, and floored the accelerator. The van shot forward, nearly running junior down, and sped off, leaving Ethel, and Junior behind in a large cloud of dust.

"Hey, Johnny," said Mike, "you just got them all dirty; dirtier I mean."

"That will give them something to really bitch about," said Ann.

"Do we really want Ethel, and Junior to have something else to bitch about?" asked Mike, "The last time they did, they were racketing all over town on that fucking dirt bike, looking for chief Tierney, wanting Scott Stubs arrested for playing music too close to their precious yard, and being extremely loud about it."

"I think they're funny when they're pissed," said Johnny, "if there's no circus in town, just piss the two of them off, and get all your entertainment for free."

"Yeah," said Mike, "but one of these days she's going to go beyond just talking about blowing some one's brains out, and actually do it."

"When that happens," said Ann, "they'll be arrested, and no one else in town will ever have to deal with them again."

"Do you really think we'll ever get that lucky?" asked Brenda.

"Some day, yes," said Ann.

They reached Beth Porter's house, and sure enough, there was Donna Blake, standing right beside Beth. The two of them stepped forward, and Beth said, "I'm bringing a friend along. Isn't that nice of me?"

"Nice for who?" Mike asked, "Certainly not for us."

Beth got into the van, and Donna pushed her way in after her. The two of them took seats near the back, nearly filling the seat next to them with luggage.

"Great," said Mike, "there goes our quiet time away from it all."

"Oh, shut up Mike," said Donna.

"Come on up here, and make me," Mike retorted.

"All right, you two," said Beth, "fight nice."

"What an airhead," said Ann, "why did you invite her, Johnny?"

"She's all right on her own," said Johnny.

"But she brought Donna along," said Mike, "when the two of them are together, Beth's never all right. During such times, she's merely the tail Donna wags."

They drove on for about ten more minutes, and then Johnny stopped the van in a long driveway. The house to which said driveway was connected was set so far back from the road, that it couldn't be seen unless you drove all the way to the garage.

"I never understood why the people who originally built this place put so much yard in front," said Mike, "if there's ever a fire here, C.L.F.D. won't even know how to get to it."

A boy of roughly the same age as mike appeared at the head of the driveway, walked quickly toward the van, opened one of the side doors, got in, offloading about as much luggage as Donna, and Beth had brought, and sat down.

"Hey, what do you say, Scott?" Johnny asked.

"So," said Scott Stubs, "you finally got here."

"Don't blame Johnny," said Brenda," "we've had to deal with Edna Miller, Tammy Richards, and Ethel, and Junior so far today, not to mention, Donna Blake."

"You didn't tell me she was coming," said Scott.

"We didn't know she was, at least until we got to Beth's house," Johnny said, "before that, we thought we'd have a Donna-free week."

"Fuck off, and die, Johnny," said Donna.

"Yeah, Donna," said Johnny, "if you don't like my company, you can get out right here, and walk back home."

Donna said nothing more for a while. Apparently, she didn't want to miss the opportunity to get out of town for a while. She lit another cigarette, and settled back in the seat next to Beth.

The trip proceeded uneventfully, at least until the van reached the crossroads. There, sitting astride his somewhat over the hill bicycle, was old crazy Ralph, the town lunatic, and prophet of doom.

"Oh my," said Mike, "it's old Ralph."

"That's all we need," said Brenda.

Unfortunately for Johnny, the driver's side window of the van was open, and the van itself was at a full stop, due to the close presents of a stop sign. Ralph approached the side of the van, put the kickstand of his bike down, and looked at the eight teens before him.

"You're going to Camp Blood, ain't you?" he said, "You'll never come back again."

"Oh, great," said Ann, "dispatches from the planet Stupid!"

"It's got a death curse," Ralph said, as if he hadn't even heard Ann, "I'm a messenger of God. I've got to warn you. You're all doomed if you go there. Go back home. Go! Go!"

"If you're a messenger of the Christian God," said Ann, "what does the asshole look like? I want to know, so I can tell him he's a useless, ugly fuck."

"Run him down, Johnny!" Brenda said.

Johnny floored the accelerator, but didn't aim the van at Ralph. He did, however, succeed in covering the old Crazy man with road dirt. Every one in the van began laughing at the sight.

"It's Pig Pen number four!" Mike said, after he'd regained control of himself.

"Four?" Ann inquired, "since when do Ethel, Junior, and crazy Ralph add up to four?"

"I also sprayed Tammy Richards," said Johnny.

"I see a bright future for you, and this van, Johnny," said Mike.

"Where?" asked Johnny.

"In one of those events, where four, or five people in vans, and trucks try to throw as much dirt at the audience as possible," said Mike.

"No thanks," said Johnny, "I want to keep it looking good, and that means clean, and undented."

"How much further is there to go?" asked Ann.

"About ten more miles," said Johnny, "we should get there before dark."

"Get where?" asked Scott.

"Oh," said Mike, "didn't he tell you? We're off to Camp Crystal Lake."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

The Necronomicon, and the beings from H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulhu Mythos appear in this chapter, and in others, thanks to the appearance of the book in "Jason Goes to Hell." The passage quoted from the Necronomicon is in the public domain. I do not own either Jason, the Necronomicon, Great Cthulhu, or Azathoth. Only the characters of Mike, Ann, and the other teens currently at Camp Crystal Lake are of my creation.

The sun was just beginning to touch the western horizon when the van pulled into the deserted parking lot. Underbrush was slowly, but steadily choking the lot, and the sign, which hung over the entrance was faded, and pealing, but the message, "Welcome to Camp Crystal Lake, established, 1935" was still readable. Some wit with a spray can had struck through the words, "crystal Lake" and the year, "1935" and had added a word, and a new year, making the message, "welcome to Camp Blood, established, 1979" instead. Below the words, the same artist had painted a badly executed dagger, and had written an additional line, "Jason Voorhees lives, your all doomed!" Beside the old camp sign, hung another. This one hadn't been retreated by the spray can wielding artist. The words on it read, "By order of C.L.P.D. this property is condemned."

Johnny, Mike, and company knew that a condemned property wasn't the safest place in the world to be, but the temptation to get away from it all had been too strong. School was out, it was high summer, there was nothing new to do in town, and there weren't that many places for teens to have a good time without some well meaning, but overprotective adult, probably a Christian, catching them at it. So they had come here to the old campground. There had been no one here since the time three years ago, when seven people had been brutally murdered. According to town legend, not to mention the sign-changing artist, there was still some one lurking around the camp, and the surrounding woods. Some one who was supposedly just waiting for fresh teens to butcher. Johnny, and his friends didn't believe the stories, however, at least most of them didn't. They knew that the person who had committed the murders, Pamela Voorhees, was dead, and dead people didn't lurk around old summer camps looking for more victims, even if the dead person in question had been a total psycho in life, as Pamela had been. However, they had to admit that some of those stories would come in handy when the sun went down, and they had a good fire going.

The doors of the van opened, and Johnny, and company got out.

"Well," said Johnny, "we're here!"

"Thank you Captain Obvious," Ann said with a smile.

"Did you really need to tell us that?" asked Mike.

"All right, Mike," said Johnny, "I admit it, I just talk to hear my own voice, sometimes."

"Hey," said Brenda, "is any one going to unpack the van?"

"Yes," said Mike, "if Johnny will hand over the keys." Johnny, also known in some quarters as Captain Obvious, handed over the keys, sat down on a tree stump, fished in his pocket, came up with a crumpled pack of cigarettes, shook one out, lit it, and settled back.

"Look at that," said Ann, "it's his van we're about to unpack, some of his stuff is in there, and there he sits! Well, if he's going to have one, I might as well have one too. Could someone give me a light?" Mike reached into his backpack, got out his lighter, walked over to Ann, and touched her on the arm.

"Here you go, ann," he said, taking her cigarette, lighting it, and handing it carefully to her.

"Thanks, I really needed a cigarette," said Ann.

"Hey," said Scott, "lazy ass! Get up, and give us a hand! I understand why Ann's not helping, but your eyes work just fine, so stop impersonating the bump on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea."

"What?" asked Ann, raising her eyebrows, "how did a log get into a hole in the bottom of the sea, and if there is a hole there, wouldn't the sea water run out through it?"

"Don't ask me," said Mike, "I never understood that song."

"That's a song?" Ann asked, "I was totally unaware that stupid things like that were considered songs."

"Unfortunately, for the rest of the intelligent human race," said Mike, "it is."

"Then the person who wrote it should have been put in a mental institution," said Ann.

"I agree. Now, as for you, Johnny," said Mike, you've been sitting down since we started out."

"No shit," said Scott, "He was driving."

"Oh for Christ's sake," said Mike, "how did I get stuck with the idiot squad? What did I do to deserve this?"

"Hmmmm," said Scott, "it might have something to do with the fact that you just like our company."

"no," said Donna, "he just can't find any one else to hang around with. Hey,ann, why does a popular girl like you hang around with a loser like him?"

"oh, shut it, Donna," said Ann.

"Given a choice," said Mike, "I certainly wouldn't be hanging around a slut like you, Donna."

"Oh come on Mike," said Ann, "why do you call Donna a slut? She's just a normal teenager."

"To the best of my knowledge," said Mike, "normal teenagers don't date half the school football team, three quarters of the track team, and six basketball players at the same time, none of whom know about any of the others."

"I know what your problem is," said Donna, "you're just pissed off because I won't let you in my pants."

"You're really full of yourself, Donna," said Mike, "I wouldn't want to get into your pants. The gods only know how many bugs you've got crawling around in there."

"Fuck you, Ball buster!" said Donna.

"You wish," said Mike.

"You'd try," said Donna.

"You'd want me to," said Mike. Donna turned, made as if to slap Mike, thought better of it at the last second, and walked off in the direction of one of the cabins.

"Oh, poor Donna," said Mike, "I must have really hit a nerve. I think she's going to throw a tantrum. I wonder how long it'll be before she needs a bottle."

"Hey, Mike," said Johnny, "is it really true what you said about her?"

"Where have you been, Johnny," asked Brenda, "on the moon?"

"No," said Scott, whose whole body seemed to be buried in sleeping bags, "he's new here."

"He's got a lot to learn about Donna, then," said Mike, "I hope he didn't have any fantasies about her being his girlfriend, if he did, he'll be in for an extreme disappointment."

"No," said Johnny, "she's not my type."

"What exactly is your type, Johnny?" asked Mike.

"He likes them tall, dark, and horny," said Scott, dropping a wink in Brenda's direction.

"Well," said Mike, "I guess that puts Donna out of the running. Her hair is the wrong color, for one thing, and for another, she hasn't cleaned down there in months, from the smell."

"Ug!" cried Ann, "are you serious? I thought Johnny had made a stop at a fish market without us noticing."

"No," said Mike, "that was Donna. I was hoping that Johnny would notice, and throw her out onto the road."

"Come on," said Johnny, "if I'd done that, she'd have been run over by a truck, or something!"

"No way," said Mike, "no truck in its right mind would ever run her down. It'd catch V. D. of the tires, or something."

"What the hell's that?" asked Johnny.

"It's a new, and hither-too unknown disease suffered by vehicles that run over Donna-type scum," said Mike, "after they get it, their tires fall to pieces, their engines lock up, and their gas tanks explode. The final stage of the disease manifests itself as total vehicular dissolution."

"Well," said Johnny, "thank you Doctor Mike, I'm glad you're here to explain these things."

"You're very welcome," said Mike.

The unpacking was finished in short order, with Johnny pitching in to help, after he had finished smoking. Donna didn't come out to help, so at Mike's insistence, her things were left in the van. "If she wants any of her shit," he said, "she can get it herself."

After the van was unpacked, Mike, Johnny, and Scott went a little way into the woods, and came back a couple hours later with a good supply of firewood. Meanwhile, the others got themselves established in two of the empty cabins. By the time Mike, and the others returned with the wood, the cabins in question had begun to look like home, or sort of like home.

As Mike, Scott, and Johnny set their armloads of wood on the ground, Mike's mind carried him back to the day, two months ago, when he'd entered an old house, on a dare. The house in question had been the old Voorhees house, which had stood empty, since the death of its last occupant, Pamela Voorhees, who had been decapitated three years before, bringing to a close her murderous rampage, which had permanently closed Camp Crystal Lake. At first, Mike hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary, just dust-covered furniture, dirty woodwork, and a general run down condition. But, after he'd explored the first two rooms, he found some things, which were not quite so run of the mill. The first thing to capture his attention was a long, sharp looking double-edged knife. The second was a small altar, and not one to the Christian god either. The third, and final thing was a large, dusty, ancient looking book, bound in old, cracked leather. He approached the book, grasped it, and turned it, so the title could be read. After doing so, he wished he hadn't. Now that he had seen it, he knew that he had to have it, and his Christian parents wood have a fit, if they found it. For he was looking at one of the few copies of the dreaded Necronomicon. A book containing some of the darkest incantations known to man. In that book, was also contained, or so Mike had heard, an account of an elder race, which had once inhabited the earth, but, due to their practicing black magic, had been banished into a dimension of darkness. As Mike attempted to turn the book back around, it fell open, and mike read the following passage, "That is not dead, which can eternal lye. And with strange eons, even death may die." Mike read on, encountering names he'd never seen, or heard before, but which cause ridges of gooseflesh to rise on his back. "Cthulhu," "Yog-sothoth," "Azathoth," "The planes of Leng," "The goat with a thousand young," and "The Nameless City." At that moment, Mike thought he heard something moving in the cellar of the old, supposedly haunted house. He turned from the book, leaving it where it was, a decision he would later regret, and made his way as quickly, and as carefully as he could, back to the window through which he had made his entrance. Once he had exited, he began making his way back to the overgrown driveway. Nothing attempted to stop him, or bring him back to the house by force. In fact, by the end of that day, he'd gone a fare distance toward convincing himself that nothing at all out of the ordinary had occurred. After all, the thing he'd heard in the cellar could have been a rat, a squirrel, or nothing but the settling of an old house. At that point, he began kicking himself for not taking the book. He decided that at some point, he would return to the Voorhees house, and get it.

"Hey, mike," said a voice behind him, "can I have a light?"

"Oh," Mike said, "sorry, Ann."

"What were you doing?" asked Ann, "I asked you for a light, four times."

"I was just thinking about some things."

"Some things like what?" asked Ann.

"Oh, nothing I can help," Mike said, taking Ann's cigarette, lighting it, and handing it back to her. "By the way," he said, "how are things going in the cabins?"

"Donna's already becoming a major pain in the ass," said Ann.

"I thought she was always a major pain in the ass," said Mike.

"She's constantly finding new ways to be one," said Ann, "for instance, she's wanting me to make her bed for her."

"I hope you told her to stuff it," said Mike.

"I did," said Ann.

"I don't see how she's going to get her bed made, in any case," said Mike, "all her shit's still in the van."

"Oh," said Ann, "she's wanting someone to go out to the van, and get it."

"I hope no one's doing that for her," said Mike.

"No," said Ann, "no one is."

"Has she offered to fuck the person who does?" asked Mike.

"Yes," said Ann, "and she's not very happy with you for exposing her activities."

"Oh," said Mike, "I'm so sorry. I think I'll go in there, and apologize to her immediately."

"You'd better not," said Ann.

"I'm just joking, Ann," said Mike.

"So am I," said Ann. "now, what were you thinking about?"

Mike told Ann about his visit to the old Voorhees house, about what he'd seen there, and about the noise he'd heard in the basement. He also told her how he'd been mentally kicking himself for months over not taking the book away with him.

"I wish you'd taken it," Ann said, "we could have learned a lot from it."

"one of these days," said Mike, "I'm going back to get it. I don't know how I'm going to hide it from my parents, but I'll find a way."

"I know a lot of good hiding places," said Ann. "By the way, would you like to hear an interesting story?"

"Yes," said Mike, but let me get a fire going first, that's what you need with a good story."

"I don't want to tell everyone," said Ann.

"We still need one," said Mike, "it's starting to turn into Bug Central out here."

"All right," said Ann.

Mike got the fire started in short order, sat down on the ground, lit a cigarette for Ann' and one for himself, and settled back to hear the story.

"Joan told me this story a couple weeks ago," said Ann, "she heard it from Chris Parker."

"Spoiled brat alert!" said Mike.

"Do you want to hear this, or not?" asked Ann.

"Yes," said Mike.

"Then, quit interrupting me," said Ann.

"Ok! Ok!" said Mike.

"According to what Chris parker told Joan," said Ann, "She, and her boyfriend, Rick Davis had gone out on a date."

"What's so unusual about that?" asked Mike, "people do it all the time."

"What's unusual about it," said Ann, "is what happened that night a month ago. They stayed out extremely late; I think they fell asleep at the movies, or something. When they finally got back to Chris's house, her parents were very angry with her. The three of them had the biggest argument in recorded history."

"Only the three of them?" asked Mike, "or don't you count Rick Davis as a person?"

"Rick left before the fight started," said Ann, "now, let me tell this story. From what Joan said, the three of them were so loud, that you could probably have heard them all the way across the lake, and into Cunningham County.

"I'm surprised no one called Chief Tierney," said Mike, "there's a little thing the three of them were violating, called a law against disturbing the peace. At least, there is one in most towns."

"Mike!" Ann said with a smile, "come on, and let me finish."

"All right," said Mike, "what happened to end the Great Parker Dust-up?"

"Chris ended the argument by storming out of the house, and into the woods," said Ann.

"What did she do that for?" asked Mike.

"From what she told Joan, she wanted to worry her parents so badly, that they would never argue with her again," said Ann, "or for that matter, slap her."

"I wonder what she did to get slapped," Mike said.

"From what she told Joan," said Ann, "she called her mother an old, dried up cunt."

"Oh boy, real maturity!" Mike said.

"I told you not to interrupt me, Mike," Ann said, "you've been doing nothing but that, all evening."

"Sorry, Ann. Go on," said Mike.

"She ran through the rain until she found a dry spot under a tree," continued Ann, "where she stopped, lay down, and fell asleep."

"Oh wow!" said Mike, "that's really intelligent. What was she trying to do, get hit by lightning?"

"Mike!" Ann exclaimed in mock exasperation.

"Sorry Ann," said Mike, "go on."

"She didn't know how long she slept," Ann continued, "but when she woke up, the rain had stopped. She was preparing to move to another, more comfortable position, when she heard footsteps behind her. At first, she thought that it was her Father, but the footsteps stopped. Then, there was a cracking noise behind her. She turned around, and standing there was, as she put it, a hideous looking man. He was so grotesque; he was almost inhuman, according to her. He had a large knife, and he attacked her with it. She was so frightened, she didn't know how she was able to think, but she kicked the knife out of his hand, and ran. He ran after her, caught her, and pulled her down to the ground. She blacked out as she was being dragged, and when she awoke, she was in her own bed. Her parents deny that anything at all happened, but I think that something did."

"What do you think happened?" inquired Mike.

"Do you remember what some one spray painted on the sign at the entrance to the camp?" Ann asked.

"Yes," replied Mike, "it said, "Jason Voorhees lives."

"I think that Chris Parker met him," said Ann.

"Oh, come on, Ann," said Mike, "Jason Voorhees drowned in Crystal Lake in 1957."

"Or, so the story goes," said Ann.

"If he were still alive," said Mike, "he would have been found a long time ago. Wasn't his death what his Mother's revenge was all about? Her sense of loss, her rage over what happened, her love for him?"

"I don't know," said Ann, "but that's what I'm up here to find out."

"I thought you came up here to have a good time away from any Christian ass holes who might try to stop you," Mike said.

"Oh, I came up here for that too, "said Ann," But I'm curious about what happened up here, you know that Alice Pasco disappeared two months after she was pulled out of the lake."

"Yes," answered Mike, "and I also know that she told the cops a story about being pulled into the lake by Jason. I thought Chief Tierney was going to shit himself when she said that. And before you even ask how I know this, I was in Crystal Lake General at the same time as she was brought in. I'd had an argument with a motorcycle, and lost."

"So you know the story," said Ann, "she says that she saw Jason, and then she went missing. What if Jason got to her, and did away with her, because of what she did to his Mother."

"Oh come on," said Mike, "if Jason were alive, he would have been seen by more than just two people, one of whom is currently missing, and the other of whom may as well have her picture next to "Spoiled Brat" in the dictionary."

"Well, we'll see," said Ann.

At that moment, shouting from the cabin interrupted them. They were too far away to make out any words, but they could tell right away, that one of the raised voices belonged to Donna. "Now, what the fuck do you suppose is going on in there?" asked Ann.

"I don't know," said Mike, "But it sounds like ickle baby Donna lost her Binky again."

"That's too bad," said Ann, "Maybe some body will help her find it."

"Lets get in there," said Mike:Before she wakes the dead counselors with her loud mouth."

They left the fire, and headed toward the sound of the argument, which seemed to be getting worse with each passing second. When they stepped in through the door, Mike saw Donna, standing in the middle of the floor with her hands planted firmly on her hips, and with her lower lip stuck out like that of a pouty child.

"What the fuck is this all about?" Mike asked.

"Oh," said Joan, "Donna's all mad because I won't give her a cigarette."

"Well," said Ann, "she's got her own. Why does she need any of yours?"

"Remember," said Mike, "she didn't want to get her stuff out of the van. Her smokes were in there, along with her sex toys, her porn mags, and her smelly clothes."

"Cheep thrill, Donna," said Ann.

"Well," said Donna, "at least I can see to get off, Ann."

"I don't need porn mags to get off," said Ann, "I get the real thing, and plenty of it."

"Yeah, right," Donna retorted, "who's you're latest? Loser Mike?"

"And I would tell you, why?" asked Ann.

"Hey, Donna," said Johnny, "shot up, you're boring us all to death."

"Not to mention," Mike added, "that you're dropping our i.q. points every time you open you word hole."

Donna slouched over and collapsed on her unmade bunk. She knew that Anne was right, and truthfully, she hated Anne Miller more than she had ever hated anyone in her whole life.

Donna was pretty at five seven one hundred thirty pounds, with auburn hair and green eyes. She would have had no competition for the boys of Lakeview High if it weren't fore Ann Miller. Ann was five feet two inches, and weighed over two hundred pounds. The weight however was evenly distributed over a muscular, well-proportioned body with large breasts, flat muscular stomach, curvy hips, and long, impressively muscular legs. Anne's blond hair was always combed in some brand new style, she always dressed exceedingly well, and her makeup was always exquisitely applied. What set Ann apart however was a certain confidence an easy smooth manner, the fact that she was a real rocker and not just a wanabe with a bad haircut, a wild disregard for any conventional ideals or thinking, and true sexual liberation. Ann didn't have to work at being popular, she just was. The reason for her popularity was as mysterious as the girl, herself. She was blind, overweight, and a little strange. But girls lined up to be Ann's friend, and boys would give anything to make Ann Miller their girlfriend.

So, Donna, who had to work for every ounce of popularity she had, and was never assured of holding onto it, hated the girl who by all rights should not be here, commanding this seen with her elegant poise and manner. Even now, the rest of the group was crowding around Ann, laughing and chatting, and Joan Carlton was helping Ann fix her hair. Nobody even said anything to Donna, and Donna got the feeling that the rest of them were pretending that she wasn't there.

"I hate you, Ann Miller," Donna thought. "and I'll get you, you little bitch, if it's the last thing I do."

"Hey," Mike suddenly said, "what the hell's that?"

"I don't know," replied Ann, "but it sounds like a refugee from the scrap yard has just hit the camp."

Every one except Donna turned their attention to the new sound from outside. It seemed to be a combination of clanks, clunks, and backfires.

"It's the incredible Junk Wagon," said Joan.

"The what?" asked Mike, "is that a new model of automobile driven by the extreme lower class of humanoid?"

"Yeah," answered Ann, "or a mechanical ungenious."

"Oh, no!" cried Mike in mock fear, "Doctor Crankenstein has finally succeeded in his horrible experiments!"

"Either that," added Johnny, "or Doctor Cycle has turned into Mr. Ride, again."

"oh, my Gods," said Mike, "spare us from old cartoon characters!"

"Lets go see who's here," suggested Ann.

"maybe we shouldn't," Mike said, "it may be old Ralph, again."

"No," said Joan, "he usually rides an old, rusty bicycle."

"Really?" asked Ann, "I thought that squeaking we heard when he was telling us how doomed we were was his mind trying to work."

"No," Mike said, "his mind trying to work wouldn't produce any sound."

"Why not?" inquired Ann.

"Because," said Mike, "his mind hasn't even tried to work in so long, that it's forgotten how."

The seven teenagers, with Ann, and Mike in the lead, left the cabin, and headed for the parking lot. They arrived just in time to see an old pick-up truck coming to a final, shuddering stop. The engine of the truck cut off, allowing the silence of the early evening to return. The doors opened with twin squeals of rusty hinges, and three girls, and two boys of roughly the same age as Mike, and Ann got out.

"Oh, shit!" exclaimed Mike, "it's Jimmy Palmer, and friends!"

"You didn't think that we'd let you have this place all to yourselves, did you?" asked the truck's driver.

"No, Jimmy," answered Mike, "I guess that would be asking too much."

"Watch it, Mikey," growled Jimmy, "or I might just decide to rearrange your face for you."

"I was totally unaware," retorted Mike, "that I asked you to do that."

"you know," Jimmy said, in an even more menacing tone, "your mouth runs entirely too much."

"That's enough, Jimmy," Ann said, stepping between the wood-be combatants, "I didn't think we invited you, or your friends up here, either."

"You'd better watch it, Ann," said Mike, "he has a nasty habit of hitting women."

"That's a fucking lie!" cried Jimmy.

"If it is," Mike fired back, "then, why did Janet leave you?"

"Janet Whitney was playing him," replied Ann, "in her way, she's a bit like Donna."

"Don't tell me she's here," Jimmy said.

"all right," said Mike, "I won't tell you, but she is."

"I told you not to tell me that," moaned Jimmy.

"Well," said Mike, "that's what you get for coming up here, and getting in my face like that."

"Which cabin is she in?" asked Jimmy.

"The one with all the lights on in it," said Mike.

"Well," said Jimmy, "in that case, we'll find another one to bed down in for the night."

"Well," Ann said, "there are eight cabins to choose from, and all of them are Donna-free."

"Good," said Jimmy, "come on, you guys, lets unpack."

Mike, Ann, and the others from Johnny's group walked back the way they had come, at least until they reached the fire Mike had built earlier.

"I don't know about anyone else," said Johnny, "but I'm hungry."

"You, and the rest of us," said Joan.

"Has any of the food even been unpacked?" asked Ann.

"Yes," replied Mike, "we didn't leave that task to Donna's incapable hands."

Johnny, Mike, and Joan went into one of the cabins, and came back out with a rather large amount of food. A short time later, the fire was serving a double purpose, and everyone except Donna was waiting to eat.

"Don't you think we ought to get Donna, and tell her that dinner's ready?" inquired Joan.

"No," replied Mike, "she couldn't be bothered to help, so why should she eat."

"That's not very nice," said Ann.

"Well, neither is Donna," Mike replied.

"You know, that's the truth," said Joan.

"I think we should get her," said Johnny, "if we don't, we'll have to put up with her bitching, all night long."

"Oh, no we won't," said Mike, "I could always find an old rag to stuff in her mouth."

"Come on," said Ann, "if you did that, she would suffocate!"

"No big loss, there," replied Joan.

"Say it again," said Johnny.

Dinner was finished a short while later, and everyone, including Donna was full.

"Now what?" asked Scott.

"I'd say," said Mike, "some one should tell a scary story. After all, we are at a summer camp, it's dark, and there's a fire going."

Mike's story idea wasn't a good one. It seemed that no one could think of a good story, and Ann didn't want every one to know the story she had told Mike earlier. Soon after the second story fell flat on its face, Ann said,

"I have something better than a simple story."

"What's that?" asked Brenda.

"Mike asked me to hold on to these," Ann said, reaching into her purse, and bringing out a set of tapes.

"What's on those?" asked Scott.

"Oh," said Ann, "just something Mike has been taping off the radio."

"Oh, great," said Donna, "rock music."

"No, not rock music," said Ann. She put one of the tapes into her tape deck, which was sitting on the ground beside her, and pushed play.

After a few seconds of silence, a loud thump came from the speakers, followed by a low male voice.

"In the dream," it said, "you are falling, lost in the listening distance, as dark locks in."

The next thing to come from the speakers, was a descending scream of horror. From that moment on, everyone, including Donna, was spellbound.

The tape contained an episode of Nightfall entitled, The Repossession, in which the ghost of a man's dead twin returned, and attempted to take over the life of his living brother. The story ended with the dead twin forcing his living brother to rip his own heart out with his bare hands. No one was unmoved by that. As the scene drew toward it's conclusion, Donna began screaming,

"No more! Please, no more!"

After the second story on the tape, Deadly Developments, in which a stolen camera had the ability to render any one photographed by it dead, every one decided to go to bed, or almost everyone.

Mike settled into his sleeping bag, and tried to go to sleep. But it was just the slightest bit difficult, what with the noise coming from a cabin at the bottom of the hill. Jimmy, and friends had chosen the cabin in question as a party pad. There was loud music coming from it, not to mention, loud voices. Mike knew that it wouldn't be long before the drugs would be brought out, and the party would get even louder.

"All right, ass holes!" Mike said, "people are trying to sleep around here!"

"What people?" asked Joan.

"Me, for one," said Mike, "but it doesn't look like I'm going to have much success."

"I didn't think you came up here just to sleep," said Joan.

"What else am I going to do in the middle of the night?" asked Mike.

"Well," said Joan, "I know you want Ann. All the guys want her, but she looks on you as just a friend. Why don't we go somewhere a bit more private, and I could show you a good time?"

"Come on, Joan," said Mike, "I didn't think you even liked me.

"I like you," said Joan, "in fact, there's more to how I feel about you than just liking you."

"Not tonight, Joan," said Mike, "maybe some other time. I don't think we could concentrate with that crap going on out there."

"All right," Joan said, got out her headphones, hooked them into her radio, and turned it on.

Mike, meanwhile, got a book out of his backpack, and tried to read, but the noise from Jimmy's party palace was a bit too loud for concentration. He finally put the book back, and wrapped his pillow around his ears. Almost as soon as he'd done that, however, more loud music blasted through the night from another direction.

"What the hell's that?" Mike shouted in surprise.

"I think," said Joan, "that's Ann."

"How do you know that?" asked Mike.

"No one else I know listens to Heavy Metal in the middle of the night," said Joan, "furthermore, Ann's the only one up here besides me, and you who listens to good music. Just listen to the garbage that Jimmy and his friends are blasting, that's punk if I ever heard it."

"I don't know," said Mike, "Johnny, and Brenda listen to good music too."

"Not in the middle of the night," said Joan, "that's strictly Ann's thing."

"What does she think she's doing?" asked Mike.

"Just having some fun," said Joan.

"Couldn't she have some quiet fun?" asked Mike.

"Quiet fun," Joan said, "is a contradiction in terms."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note:

This chapter contains references to events chronicled in the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. Thanks to the appearance of the Necronomicon in "Jason Goes to Hell," One can only assume that the Friday the 13th films took place in the Lovecraftian universe. No copyright infringement is intended.

Also, this is the chapter to read if you've been waiting for Jason to start killing. In this one, the body count begins!

This story was begun over a year ago, just as something to do. When I started, I had no idea that there were sites like on which stories like this could be published. This version, however, has been edited to remove some of the more explissit sexual content. The original, as unfinished as it is, would have had to be rated MA, and as there is no such rating on this site, the next best thing had to be done.

This story is still in progress, and is a long way from being over. Feel free to review what is here so far. All reviews, both positive, and negative will be welcome.

Ann couldn't sleep, either. The noise coming from Jimmy's cabin was more than enough to wake those dead counselors Mike had mentioned earlier. After about an hour of listening to innocuous thumps, bangs, shouts and screaming, which was theoretically called music by the Palmer impaired, Ann got up and decided to show the invaders just what music was. Grabbing her cassette deck and tapes, Anne headed for the lake.

The air was warm and inviting, and, on a whim, Ann decided to go swimming. She hadn't brought out her swimsuit, so, she stripped off her clothes, and hid them under a bush. She set up her cassette deck behind a rock formation that formed a partial wall, so as to shield it from the lake water. Inserting a tape, Ann cranked the volume up to top gain, and went slipping and sliding down the shore to the water.

She had just reached the shallows when Black Sabbath exploded from the ample speakers on the tape deck.

Ann swam out until her feet could no longer touch bottom. Then, she reverted to floating on her back. There were so many things she'd wanted to tell Mike earlier, but his skepticism had prevented her. For one thing, there was old Ralph. He wouldn't so consistently warn people about coming up to the camp for no reason, even if he was a senile idiot. He had a reason. There were the hunters, who swore that they had seen something in the woods, and there was the desertion of the camp itself. An abandoned camp like this should have been the perfect place for drug deals, rapes, and all manner of crime or distasteful behavior, but it wasn't. In fact, accept for the occasional vagrant, none of whom ever visited the place twice; the camp generally remained bleak and empty.

Ann wasn't afraid of Jason. In fact, she hoped he was here. The thought of him aroused in her a tingling excitement that she couldn't exactly explain. It was sexual, and yet, it was also deeper. She knew what he was, and she didn't care.

Although none of her friends, even Mike knew it, Ann felt separate, somehow. She fit in on the surface, but inside, something was missing. Why did she feel that Jason, a man who probably couldn't even speak, lived in the woods, and killed teenagers could erase that feeling of emptiness that clutched at her every day as she laughed, smiled, and went through the motions of living. Only rock music made her feel complete, and that couldn't help her the rest of the time.

"What if Jason is here, now?" she suddenly thought. "What if he's watching me?" The thought made her nipples stiffen, and she played with them idly as she floated.

Ann was suddenly gripped with the desire to show off. She kicked her legs, flipped over, swam to a large rock and dove into the water.

It was cool and clean beneath the surface of the lake, and Ann enjoyed the sensation of the water caressing her smooth skin. She swam under water, feeling it wrap its sheltering arms around her luscious frame. It was so peaceful with the water around her, and the music pounding relentlessly above her.

Suddenly, she felt a jerk on her right ankle. One of the weeds growing in the lake had snagged her foot. Ann tried desperately to pull her foot free, but the more she pulled, the tighter the stubborn plant clung.

What could she do? The music was too loud for anyone to hear her if she could scream, and as she was under water, she couldn't anyway. Was this her destiny to die unfulfilled here at the bottom of Crystal Lake where Jason had supposedly drowned all those years ago? She supposed it would be rather ironic, but the thought filled her with nothing but despair.

Suddenly, Ann heard splashing coming toward her.

"Oh, thank the Gods," she thought. "one of the others is up and decided to come for a swim, too."

However, she knew that it wasn't one of the others the moment the person reached her, for he grabbed the weed below where it was attached to her foot and ruthlessly yanked it out, freeing her. Ann swam up to the surface with a grateful gasp of fresh air. Dizziness suddenly overcame her, and she toppled backward into the stranger's arms, still gasping great mouthfuls of welcome air.

After the dizziness had passed, which took a few minutes, Ann was able to notice the sheer bulk of the man holding her. She turned around in his arms, wrapping her arms gratefully around him.

It was then that she noticed another thing. This man was tall. He was standing on the bottom of the lake. Instinctively, she reached up to touch the man's face, and found the oddest thing of all. His face was covered by a piece of material. Although the material hid the face from view, it didn't hide its strange contours from Ann's exploring fingertips.

Realization hit Ann with the force of a fired bullet. This was Jason Voorhees. It had to be. No one else had a face like that. No one else was this tall, or this large. That tingling excitement was back, and it was building up to a crescendo.

Ann finally understood that destiny had come for her, at last. Destiny was the sweet, inviting evening air, the gentle rocking motion of the water, and the arms that held her so tightly. Destiny was the Beatles, playing a soft love song from her tape deck on the shore. Destiny was this moment, and one wrong move could blow it all to Hell.

Suddenly nervous, Ann pressed her naked body against that of Jason. Jason moved briskly backward, not stopping until they reached the shore. There, he tried to set her down, but Ann's arms clung insistently to him.

Ann knew that this was a one shot deal if ever there was one. Jason hadn't interacted with people in years, and she didn't think that he had ever interacted with a woman up close, accept for his mother. Ann tentatively ran a hand along Jason's broad back, at the same time pressing herself against him, partially for warmth, and partially for reassurance.

"Thank you for saving my life, Jason," she said. She knew that wasn't up to her usual standards, but she had nearly died, and that sort of thing never did one's vocabulary any favors.

"I only wish we could have met under better circumstances."

She wondered, for a moment, what Jason would do. Would he kill her? Would he simply walk away? Would he do nothing? She didn't know the answer to any of those questions, but she hoped that the saving of her life was only the beginning. She couldn't explain what she was feeling, even to herself. She had never believed in love at first sight, but that was what seemed to have happened, at least on her end. The question was, what did Jason feel? Did he feel anything for her? Just the fact that he had saved her life rather than killing her, or leaving her to die in the lake proved that he felt something for her.

Jason had never encountered anyone like the blond girl in the lake before. He had spent years in the woods, watching, stealing what he needed, and keeping as far from people as possible. The only person he had ever been close to had been Mommy, but he had seen her killed three years ago. The bad woman had cut Mommy's head off with a machete, but he had punished her. Since then, he hadn't seen anyone until the new people had come to the camp. He had watched them from behind cover, and knew that the blond girl was named Ann, and that she had believed he was out there. She also knew, or suspected the reason why he had tried to punish the girl in the woods.

He felt something for Ann that he had never felt before. He wanted to be close to her, to hold her, to never let go of her. He took her hand, knowing that her eyes didn't work, and that she used her hands to see, thanks to the time he had watched her, and passed it in a circle in the air.

"Forever?" Ann asked. This was the most important moment of her life, and she had to be sure. Jason placed her hand on his forehead, nodded, and then made the circular motion again.

Ann felt tears prick her eyes, and wiped them away quickly, not wishing that Jason think that she was sad.

Suddenly, Jason lifted her, and began walking slowly through the woods, trying to protect her face from clawing tree limbs. Ann wasn't frightened, and snuggled into him, making her easy to carry.

Finally, after what seemed like a long time, Jason stopped, and gently set Ann down. He opened a door in front of her and went in.

Ann was too tired to follow Jason into wherever he had gone, but she could still hear him moving, a door squeaking, and Jason rummaging through things. At last, he reappeared, knelt once more beside her, and lifted her left hand.

Ann felt the ring slide up her finger, and couldn't believe it. Surely, this had to be a dream. The ring stopped moving, and Ann reached to adjust it on her hand. It felt like a wedding and engagement ring soldered together, and Ann suddenly realized that it had to have belonged to the late Pamela Voorhees. If Ann had any doubts, they all disappeared. Jason wouldn't have given her this ring if he weren't serious.

As if reading her mind, Jason made the circular motion again with her now ringed hand.

"Yes, Jason," Ann said softly. "forever. I mean it, too. Now, I know what destiny truly means."

He carried her back into her cabin, stopping long enough to grab her cassette deck on the way. The others were sleeping, surprisingly, and Jason was extremely quiet as he tucked Ann into her sleeping bag.

Ann wanted him to stay with her, but the bunk creaked alarmingly when he sat on the edge, and Jason quickly got up again. Gently, he kissed her mouth, took her hand, made the circular motion again, and left, softly closing the door behind him.

At the same time as Ann was learning the meaning of destiny, Mike was learning the meaning of sleep deprivation. He, Joan, Johnny, and Brenda had decided to play a few hands of "strip" blackjack, and that had kept them occupied for a while, after which the others had actually managed to go to sleep, although Mike had no idea how they had managed it. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning, and the Jimmy Palmer noise brigade was still extremely active. The party in cabin 10 had gotten progressively louder, at a rate of approximately 100 decibels a minute, And as if that wasn't enough, the music from the direction of the lake seemed to be even louder than the party. Mike knew, however, that the reason for that was that the cabin in which he, Joan, Johnny, and Brenda were currently staying was very close to the lake. The music from out there continued for what seemed to be forever, but it finally cut off, leaving only the noise of Jimmy's wild party to contaminate the night, and in the case of that uproar, that was exactly what was happening. Mike wondered how any one was going to get any sleep, but it didn't seem as if any one else was even interested in sleep.

At approximately five-thirty, the noise brigade finally shut up, causing Mike to breathe a sigh of relief. He fell of to sleep, and dreamed of the Voorhees house, and the Necronomicon. In the dream, he picked up the book, and began making his way back to the window he had come in through, but before he could, a large, fleshless hand settled on his arm, and halted him in his tracks. He was turned helplessly toward the thing that was holding his arm. Turned toward the smell of decaying flesh, dirt, and worms. As the thing continued to turn him relentlessly, he saw it, and his sanity temporarily departed.

The thing that was holding him was a living corpse. Shreds of clothing still clung to its fleshless frame. The face was a grinning skull, but the eyes still lived. They were insanely glowing red pits that seemed to mirror the flames of ultimate chaos. The eyes of something that used to be human, but wasn't any more, or something that had once appeared to be human, but had cast aside all its masks. The inhuman thing plucked the book from Mike's relaxing hand, and its head lowered toward his throat. The fleshless mouth opened, as if to bite, and Mike awoke, screaming.

Ann was passing the cabin when she heard Mike's voice raised in a scream. She realized almost immediately, that the scream contained words. She listened carefully, and heard names such as, "great Cthulhu," "Yog-sothoth," and "Azathoth," which had their origins in the Necronomicon, and other names, and phrases, such as, "the color out of space," "the Deep Ones," and "the haunter of the dark," which originated elsewhere.

Ann ran into the cabin, and found Mike nearly out of his bunk. She could tell that something had happened, but she didn't know what. She tried to take his hand, but at first he drew away. Then, however, he seemed to realize who was there, and relaxed a little, and let her hold him.

It took nearly an hour for Ann to calm Mike down enough for him to tell her what had happened. He told her about the dream in detail, and then asked, "What do you think it means?"

"It's a warning," said Ann, "we can look at the Necronomicon, copy from it, learn from it, but it belongs to the Voorhees family, and can't be removed from the house."

"Why couldn't some one have just shown up in my dream, and said that?" asked Mike, "instead of nearly making me die of fright."

"The beings summoned by the book are beings of darkness," said Ann, "They have their own way of doing things."

"Well," Mike said, "remind me never to invite them to any fancy get togethers. They would probably act just like Jimmy Palmer."

"Would you like any breakfast?" Ann inquired.

"Well, all right." Mike replied. "by the way, is Donna awake?"

"Unfortunately, yes," said Ann, "she's awake, and just as bitchy as ever."

"That's all I need," said Mike, "first, the worst nightmare I ever had, and now, there's Donna to deal with, not to mention, Jimmy, and the druggies."

"Sounds like a bad rock band," Joan said as she walked in through the door.

"Gods forbid," said Ann, "if a rock band ever called themselves that, I'd smash all their tapes."

"I wonder what a band like that would sound like," said Joan.

"Probably just like the junk they were listening too last night," said Ann, "Why do you think I wanted to show them what real music was?"

"Yeah," said Mike, "them, and the rest of the universe."

The three of them exited the cabin, and walked toward the fire pit Mike had dug the night before. When they got there, every one else was already sitting down to eat.

"What the hell was all that yelling back at the cabin?" asked Brenda.

"Nothing," said Ann, "Mike had a nightmare, that's all. It could happen to anyone."

"Oh," said Donna, "ickle baby Mikey had hisself a bad dweam. Oh ain't that sad?"

"And in the unintelligence forecast for this Saturday morning," said Ann, "expect more low intellect from Donna, with lots of internal fog."

"Do you ever shut up, Donna?" asked Johnny.

"No," said Mike, "She flunked out of up shutting school."

"What's this?" Joan inquired, "the invasion of the Dr. Seuss educational institutes?"

"If she shut up," Ann commented, "she wouldn't be good at anything."

"What makes you think she's good at anything, now?" asked Johnny, "she's not even good at washing herself."

"I could have told you that," said Mike, "and I believe I did."

"Yeah," said Johnny, "but I've had a chance to see her noncleaning habits for myself, now."

"How did you see this?" asked Mike.

"She passed me on her way back from the shower," replied Johnny, "and I know she didn't even do so much as wash herself."

"How do you know that?" asked Brenda. Rather than answering her with words, Johnny held his nose with one hand, and pretended to fan an extremely bad odor away from his face with the other.

"In that case, what was she doing in the shower?" Joan inquired, "she never cleans herself. What does she do, stand in the bathroom and look at the falling water?"

"Maybe," answered Johnny, "I'm just glad I didn't meet her in there to find out."

"You wouldn't have wanted to," said Mike, "the smell would kill you."

"It nearly did anyway," said Johnny, "Christ what a stink!"

"Hey," Ann called, "can some one give me a light?"

"Right with you," said Mike.

Mike got out his lighter, reached for Ann's cigarette, and noticed a ring on her finger that hadn't been there the night before.

"Where did you get this?" Mike asked.

"Oh," said Donna, "ickle baby Mikey wost him's girlfwiend, now. Oh, dat's too, too, too bad! Come over here, Mikey, and wet me hold you. Mommy Donna's gonna make it all better."

"Would you shut the fuck up!" yelled Joan, "even I didn't know how much of a bitch you could be when you really set your mind to it."

"Well," said Mike, "we've finally found something she's good at."

"Do you think shutting up would be too difficult for you, Donna?" Ann inquired, "I don't. All you have to do is to stop talking."

"That would be too much of a strain on her brain," said Joan.

"What brain?" asked Johnny, "I don't think there's anything there."

"You're probably right, at that," answered Ann.

Mike lit Ann's cigarette, and then lit one for himself. He sat down on the tree stump Johnny had used the night before, and smoked in comparative silence.

"I wonder," Ann suddenly said, "if Donna ever got her things out of the van."

"Why don't you know?" asked Joan, "you're the one who's unlucky enough to share a cabin with her."

"Well," Ann said, "Donna was the farthest thing from my mind last night."

"I know what was on her mind last night," said Donna, "finding some one other than loser Mikey to fuck."

"If you don't shut your mouth, Donna," Joan said, "I'm personally going to ram my foot up your ass so far, you'll need a jet powered hoist to get it out."

"ooo, look at that," said Donna, "Joany's getting mad. I better run real fast and hide all day!"

"Enough with the stupid comments, and lousy grammar," said Johnny, "after a while some one might just want to kill you."

"Are you threatening me?" asked Donna.

"No," Johnny replied, "I'm warning you. People will only put up with your shit for so long. And then they take action."

"I see a bright future for you, Donna," said Brenda, "in a slaughterhouse."

"As the butcher?" Joan inquired.

"No," Brenda answered, "as the cow."

"oh, poor Mikey," Donna said, once more adopting the fake baby voice she'd been using to torment Mike all morning, "it wooks wike Annie's too good for you. You've got to be wich enough to buy her nice wings wit pwitty stones in dem to get wit her. Come on, ickle Mikey. Tell Mommy Donna how much it hurts, and I'll give you some nice chocky chip cookies, and some nice water to wash em down wit. Come to Mommy Donna, widdle Woozer Mikey."

"What the fuck are chocky chip cookies?" Joan inquired.

Before anyone could answer Joan's question, Ann crossed the distance between herself, and Donna, and punched her squarely in the mouth.

"One more word," she said threateningly, "and I'll fucking kill you myself! You won't need to wait for any one else to get angry enough at you to do it. You just keep talking, and I'll shut you up for good!"

"Welcome to Camp Blood," said a voice from behind Ann, and Donna. They both looked in that direction, and saw Jimmy Palmer coming toward them.

"The last thing we need," said Ann, "is any bull shit from you, Jim, so shut the fuck up right now!"

"Look out!" said Jimmy, "Ann's going psychotic on us! Call the men in the white coats!"

"If any one needs the men in the white coats," said Brenda, "it would be you, Jim, considering the treat you gave us all last night."

"You have no appreciation for good music," said Jimmy.

"Oh," said Brenda, "is that what you call it? I thought you brought a bunch of tapes of crows being steamed alive in a pressure cooker."

Joan took advantage of Jimmy, and Brenda's music discussion, walked over to mike, sat down beside him, and put her arm around his waste.

Mike reached for Joan, put his arm around her shoulders, turned partially toward her, and buried his face in her breast. The tears came, then. He was wishing that Donna would shut up, but there was very little chance of that happening any time in the near future. When he had first encountered her in his preschool days, he had thought that she would learn not to antagonize people, but here they were all these years later, and she still hadn't, although he thought she would the first time she got flattened, but now he knew that the hope had been a vain one, since Ann had done just that, and here she was, still preparing to open her mouth. Donna was one of that rarest breed of human being, a walking mouth that never closed, and the only cure for such as her, was either a bullet, or a fist. Ann had already used the one on her, and she had all but threatened to use the other, or it's nearest equivalent on her as well.

"Look at that," said Brenda, "Donna's going off to throw another temper tantrum. I wonder how many holes she's going to kick in the walls of some poor defenseless cabin."

"Probably none," said Johnny, "she doesn't need to, there are already some holes in the cabin walls. This place has stood unused for three years, after all."

Donna stalked away from the group, and headed toward one of the empty cabins. She couldn't believe the nerve of that stuck up bitch Ann, hitting her, and threatening to kill her in front of everyone like that.

"I'll get you, you little bitch," she thought, "I'll make you sorry, I'll make you so, so sorry."

She reached the cabin, opened the door, and saw the back, and shoulders of a large man, dressed in an old shirt, and green overalls. The stranger was wearing large, black boots, and appeared to be hooded. He also appeared not to notice that he'd been interrupted in whatever he had been doing.

He appeared to be looking out the window, watching the main group around the fire pit. Other than that, he could have been mistaken for a department store dummy, except for the fact that he was breathing.

Donna suddenly realized that the contours of the man's body were familiar. She'd seen this man carrying Ann back from some place in the woods last night.

She had left Jimmy's cabin to go to the bathroom, or as she so often put it, "Tap a kidney," and she'd noticed that Ann was out, thanks to the music coming from the direction of the lake. She'd made it to the bathroom, done her business, and started back, when she'd seen Ann being carried by a "big guy." She hadn't gotten a good look at him, but she'd known what Ann, and the guy had been up to.

Now, she was seeing him again, and she noticed that although he was watching the whole group, his eyes continuously lit on Ann, as if he couldn't get enough of looking at her.

"Who the hell is that?" Donna thought, "He certainly didn't ride up with Jimmy, or us. We've got a stranger up here. Well, that shows just what a little slut Ann is; fucking total strangers like that."

Donna suddenly realized that the window the guy was looking out of was open. Therefore, he'd probably heard everything that had been said to, and about her, as well as seeing Ann deck her.

"Well," she thought, "There goes my chance to land this one. Too bad, I'll bet he's hung like a mammoth. Then again, maybe not. Maybe he can help me pay that bitch back. Once he has a sample of me, he'll forget all about Ann, and she'll be alone, and miserable."

Donna walked quietly toward the guy at the window, and reached out to touch him. Her hand settled on his shoulder, and he turned away from the window, and pushed her roughly back.

She nearly overbalanced, recovered herself, and said, "Come on, baby. How about a little roll in the bushes."

Once again, the man's large hands shoved her backward. This time, she did overbalance, and fell to the floor with a crash.

"You son of a bitch!" Donna nearly screamed, "You don't know what you're missing, but that's your loss. Don't come asking me for any pussy. You won't get any. Fuck you looser!"

"Hey, Donna," said a voice from the doorway, "who are you yelling at."

"Oh," said Donna, "just some loser, Christine. He's the guy that fucked Ann last night.

"Well," said Christine, "you can yell at losers later. Jimmy has some more of that grass, and I'd like some company smoking it."

Donna stood up, and walked out the door with Christine, one of the girls who had ridden up with Jimmy, and headed for the cabin at the bottom of the hill, known in some quarters as the "Party Palace."

Mike's tears continued to flow without interruption. He couldn't even smoke, because he was crying too hard. Knowing his luck, he would drop any cigarette he tried to smoke right into his own lap, and there would go his pants, not to mention his pubic hair, and his penis, and he didn't want to lose it.

Joan was still holding him, stroking his hair, and trying to comfort him. Thanks to the way she was holding him, he thought that there was a bit more to how she felt about him than she'd admitted last night, but at the moment, thanks to the aftermath of the nightmare, combined with Donna's mouth, he couldn't even talk.

"Hey, you guys," said Brenda, "why don't we go on a little hike in the woods? After all, we are at a summer camp, and we did come here to have a good time."

"Yeah," Johnny agreed, "a hike might even help take Mike's mind off what little "Bitch Whore" Donna said."

"Maybe it might," said Joan, "but, then again, maybe it might not."

"How will we know if we don't try?" asked Johnny.

"Hey, Ann," Brenda called, "you want to come?"

"No," replied Ann, "I need to take a shower."

: Where you want to take it?" asked Johnny, "I thought the showers were just fine where they were."

"Ha ha," said Ann, "very funny, Johnny."

After her shower, Ann climbed up a low hill and sat down on a bluff that overlooked the cabins. She had a lot of thinking to do. Romance was fine, but practicality was also a part of her nature. There was also the little matter of the future to think about. Ann did not regret for a moment the promise she had made the night before, but her life had changed, and drastically since yesterday. Now, when she made a decision, she couldn't just think of herself. Jason would depend on her. He couldn't speak, and with his lack of education and his long separation from humanity, it was doubtful that he could find work. She would have to eventually be able to support him in order for them to have a life together. Also, her parents were going to have double conniptions when they found out that their daughter was engaged to a man who couldn't even speak, and lived in the woods.

"One thing at a time," she told herself. Joan was with Mike, and that was good. Ann rather thought that Joan liked Mike, and wanted to be more than just his friend. As for the future, Ann was a smart girl. She would study hard, and find a job that would support herself and her family. After all, people had been doing it for hundreds of years, hadn't they? If she had to defy her parents, so what? They would live, and hopefully, someday, they would understand, but if they didn't, it was still her life, not theirs.

Donna was the main problem for now. Donna's loud mouth kept running, no matter what anyone did to shut it up. Donna was the one person that Ann knew she would have to watch. She had angered Donna very much by punching her, and that selfish, drugged out little slut would be out for revenge. Donna may not have been the sharpest tool in the drawer, but Ann knew that unintelligent people who were needlessly cruel could possess a certain base cunning that made them dangerous.

"Ok, Cunt," Ann whispered. "you want to play? Let's play. I'll be watching you, you drugged out bitch, and I think you're going to lose this little game."

Mike walked along the trail in the woods. He was walking hand in hand with Joan. He'd managed to regain some control, and now that he, Joan, Johnny, and Brenda were out here, he was glad Joan had convinced him to come along.

The woods were silent, apart from an occasional songbird, or small animal, and the faraway sound of the lake. The trees surrounding the trail grew close together, and many of them were entangled in viney growths, which may, or may not have been poison ivy, or poison oak. The trail was mostly level, but an occasional hill broke the monotony.

The four teens had been walking for nearly an hour, when they saw something that looked like a small building ahead, and slightly to the left. It looked as if some one had decided, on the spur of the moment, to build a shack in the woods, and "get back to nature," as some people put it.

"Hey, Joan," said Mike, "what's that thing doing out here?"

"Sitting in the middle of the woods," said Joan.

"Yeah," said Johnny, "But who does it belong to?"

"Who knows?" said Brenda, "maybe it belongs to The Incredible Shack Man."

"Who's that?" asked Joan.

"Don't ask me," answered Brenda, "I never met him. I only read about him in a magazine."

"Which magazine did you find an article about the "incredible Shack Man" in?" Joan asked

"The National Inquirer," Brenda replied.

"I should have known," Joan sighed.

"Or maybe," Brenda continued, "the Bushman lives there."

"I don't think so," Johnny said, "the Bushman's been dead since 1968."

"Maybe," Brenda whispered, "he came back as a bush zombie."

"Why would he want to?" Johnny asked, "he was just some psycho who killed people in the woods for no reason what so ever, and growled at everyone. He didn't have enough brains to come back from the dead."

"The shack is there," Brenda said in the same hoarse whisper, "someone lives there. If it's not the Bushman, it's someone else, maybe someone even more dangerous."

"Woo!" Joan said, sounding more than a bit like a Halloween ghost in a children's haunted house, "it's the incredible haunted shack in the woods! It's gonna come, and get us!"

"It better not gonna be!" Brenda cried.

"Brenda," laughed Johnny, "you should have drunk some more coffee this morning."

"I know," Brenda replied, "I sometimes purposely mess up my words."

"Will you two stop it?" Joan asked, trying at the same time to keep from laughing herself.

Mike said nothing, but a smile touched his lips. It was good to hear people joking, and not to have to put up with Donna's everlasting mouth. He wished, however, that Ann had come along, for she would have had something to add to the comments being made.

"Well, it doesn't look like any one's home," said Johnny, "lets go in, and see what the home of The Incredible Shack Man looks like."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Mike, "what if the guy who owns this place doesn't like strangers in his home?"

"Oh, come on," said Johnny, "we need a little adventure. Furthermore, no one's supposed to be living out here. That shack's probably been standing empty out here for a long time."

"Yeah, and what if some one does live there," inquired Mike, "what if it's a crazy guy with a shotgun? What if he starts blowing holes in us?"

"What if you get a sense of adventure?" Johnny countered, "you need one."

"In situations where I might get holes blown in me by a mad hunter," mike retorted, "I haven't got one."

"Come on, guys," said Brenda, "if we're going in, lets go."

Johnny approached the shack, located a door on one side, pushed it open, and led the others inside. The room that met their eyes was small, somewhat cramped, and furnished with items that looked as if they had been stolen from some junkyard, or other. An old, rusty steel chair sat in one corner, and in the other, was a bucket with an old, cracked toilet seat sitting on top of it. Along one wall, there was what looked like a positively ancient army cot, covered with moth eaten blankets. There was another door directly opposite the one they had entered, and Johnny crossed the room to it, and pushed it open.

The door opened onto another room, one which was almost the same size as the first, but which served quite another purpose. In the center of this room, was a low table-like object, on which was what looked like a decaying, severed human head, surrounded by unlit candles, and various other objects, including an open, and empty ring box. Underneath the table lay the decomposing corpse of a young woman, who looked as if she had died from a stab wound to the temple. Hanging on the walls, were various weapons, such as, a machete, an axe, a claw hammer, a pitchfork, and a pickaxe.

"Oh, my god!" cried Johnny, "we've stumbled into the home of a maniac, all right! But, not one with a shotgun! Maybe old Ralph was right to warn us away."

"Who the hell would do something like this?" asked Brenda.

"I don't know," said Joan, "but I do know this, Ann has some weird tastes in men."

"What are you talking about," asked Mike, "are you saying that the guy who gave Ann that ring is the same guy who did this?"

"That's the way it's looking," said Joan.

"How do you come to that conclusion," Brenda inquired.

"Look at the ring box on the table," said Joan, "it's open, and empty."

"Let me see that," said Johnny.

Joan picked up the ring box, and handed it to Johnny. She was very careful not to touch anything else while she did it, for the ring box had been very close to the severed head, and she didn't want to touch that.

"Wow!" said Johnny; "there's some one's name on it."

"What is it?" asked Mike.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Johnny replied.

"What is it?" Mike inquired again, this time putting a bit more force behind the question, "or is this one of your dumb jokes?

"No," answered Johnny, "it's no joke. There really is a name on it, but even I don't believe what I'm seeing."

"What's the God damn name, Johnny?" Mike asked.

"Pamela Voorhees," said Johnny.

Mike stood in silence, his mind turning back to the conversation he, and Ann had had the night before. Ann had said that people other than Alice Pasco, and Chris Parker claimed to have seen Jason Voorhees, and now it looked as if there was some truth to the stories of his survival. But, how had Jason lived through drowning in Crystal Lake? If he'd lived, why hadn't he simply made his way back to the camp, thereby saving his Mother a lot of grief? The only conclusion Mike could come to, was that Jason hadn't been able to return to the camp. So, he had taken to living in the woods, and doing what? According to the story Joan had told Ann, he was running around in the woods, and attacking unsuspecting teenagers, like Chris Parker, but why? Mike thought he understood who the corpse under the table was, anyway. It had to be Alice Pasco, killed by Jason out of revenge for what she'd done to his Mother. But, how had Ann gotten Pamela's old ring? Had Jason given it to her? Mike thought that the answer to that question was probably yes. But how had Ann met Jason? Had she somehow met him last night? Perhaps that was what Donna had meant by what she'd said about Ann, "finding some one else to fuck." Mike didn't want to place too much stock in anything Donna said, but he wondered how she'd known what Ann was supposedly up to. Had she been spying on Ann? That seemed, in Mike's opinion, like a pretty Donna-like thing to do.

"Lets get out of here," Said Brenda, "this place gives me the creeps!"

"That's a good idea," said Johnny.

The four teens retraced their steps, and exited the shack, which they now knew belonged to Jason Voorhees, who was still alive, and stalking the camp. They wondered where he was now. Was he back at the camp, or somewhere else? They had no way of knowing.

"What was the meaning of that setup in there?" Johnny asked.

"It was a sort of shrine," said Mike, "a shrine to Pamela Voorhees."

"But, why?" Johnny asked.

"The Voorhees family were into black magic," said Mike, "I was in their house, once. I went in on a dare, and I saw some things inside."

"Some things like what?" inquired Joan.

"Black magic texts," said Mike, "and that explains what we saw back there."

"How," asked Johnny.

"Maybe," Mike answered, "Jason believes that he can somehow resurrect his dead Mother."

"But, she's dead," said Brenda, "and the dead don't come back. Dead is dead, and dead is forever."

"Maybe, Jason doesn't know that," replied Mike.

"Oh, great!" Johnny exclaimed, "Ann finds a boyfriend, and he's a psycho!"

"Do you think she's safe around him?" asked Brenda.

"I don't know," said Mike, "we already know that he attacked Chris Parker for no reason. What might he do to her?"

"Lets get back to the camp," said Joan, "we need to see if she's all right."

When they reached the camp an hour later, Mike, Joan, Johnny, and Brenda split up, and began searching for Ann. Johnny began his search in the cabins, Joan went off in the direction of the lake, Brenda headed in the direction of the parking lot, and Mike started off in the direction he'd seen Ann going in before they had left the camp.

It was Mike who found her, asleep in the arms of a large man, dressed in an old, plaid shirt, green overalls, and black boots. The man was also, for some reason, wearing what looked like a pillowcase over his head. He was holding Ann very gently, but it also looked as if he was guarding her. Every few seconds, he would raise one of his hands, and either stroke her hair, or one of her cheeks.

Ann began to stir, having been awakened by Mike's approaching footsteps. She turned her head in his direction, and said, "Who's there?"

"It's Mike,"

"Quit standing there like a lump, and come on up here," said Ann, "for one thing, I need a cigarette, and for another, I don't think you want to hear the racket coming from the Loser Pad."

"Don't you mean Jimmy's Party Palace, and Noise Factory?" asked Mike.

"Whatever you call it," said Ann, "It sounds like a combination slaughterhouse, and torture chamber."

"I wonder what they're killing down there now," said Mike, "whatever it is, it sounds like it's in horrible agony."

"Hopefully Donna," said Ann.

"No such luck," said Mike, "we saw her when we got back. She and Christine Sonders were crashed out in their cabin, and the place smelled like dope."

"Who's brilliant idea was it to bring her, anyway?" asked Ann.

"If your talking about Donna," said Mike, "you already know."

"No," said Ann, "I'm talking about Christine Sonders."

"She, Chandra Davis, and Ronda Pheagen came up here with Jimbo, and the jackasses, although what Ronda's doing with them is a complete mystery."

"Why is it that when Jimmy brings people up here that so many of them seem to be Donna's type, apart from Ronda, that is?" asked Ann.

"I don't know," said Mike, "but I have an even more interesting question."

"What's that?" asked Ann.

"How did Jimbo, and the jackasses know we were here in the first place?" asked Mike, "remember when they first got here, how Jimmy said something about us having the camp to ourselves?"

"Yes," said Ann, "I wonder who it was."

"It was probably Donna, or Beth," said Mike, "one's just as likely a suspect as the other. You know how they are, as thick as two thieves."

"Meaning what?" asked Ann.

"Meaning," said Mike, They remind me of Penny and Pat. You know, the kids in the old first grade readers? What Pat does, Penny does, and what Penny does, pad does."

"I never read those," said Ann, "I thought they were the stupidest pieces of trash ever to curse humanity, at least until I met Donna Blake for the first time."

"Wait a minute," said Mike, "you defended her when I called her a slut."

"I wouldn't call her a slut," Ann said as she sat up, settling herself on Jason's knee, and reaching in her pocket for her cigarettes, "I'd just call her trash."

"But you called her a normal teenager," said Mike.

"Yeah," said Ann, "but you didn't ask me which planet she originally came from."

"Which planet?" asked Mike, lighting Ann's cigarette, and handing it to her.

"The planet Trashionah," replied Ann.

"Where's that?" Mike inquired as he lit his own cigarette, and settled back against a tree.

"Millions of light-years from earth," said Ann, "in the solar system of idioticas."

"Good one, Ann," Mike said.

"Here's another question to chew over," said Ann, "how did whichever one to let Jimmy know we were up here do it? The phones up here don't work."

"One of them probably called them from Beth's house," said Mike, "with the exception of you, and me, Johnny called all the others. Either one of them would have had time to call Jimbo before we got there."

That's true," said Ann, "by the way, why did what Donna said affect you so badly? You know she's always trying to get under your skin."

"Just a delayed reaction from that nightmare I had," said Mike, "I'll bet you'd be pretty unsteady after an experience like that."

"I probably wood," said Ann, "and speaking of your dream, where did you hear about the color out of space, the deep ones, and the haunter of the dark? I didn't think you knew about those incidents."

"What incidents?" asked Mike, "what are you talking about?"

"When I came into your cabin this morning," said Ann, "you were screaming. But, you weren't just screaming. You were screaming phrases, some from the Necronomicon, some from other sources."

"I don't know what I said," said Mike, "but you seem to have attached some significance to it. What did I say?"

Ann repeated what she had heard Mike screaming just before she had entered the cabin.

"I don't know where some of those phrases came from," said Mike, "great Cthulhu was mentioned in the Necronomicon, as was Yog-sothoth, but where did the color out of space, and the deep ones come from?"

"There's a box in my cabin," said Ann, "get it, and I'll show you where I've seen some of those phrases before."

"What kind of box?" asked Mike, "a special kind, or just your usual cardboard variety."

"It's a metal lockbox," said Ann, "you don't think I'm about to leave anything of mine lying around for Donna Blake to get her hands on, do you?"

"Yeah," said Mike, "I thought it was your mission in life to get robbed blind by her."

"Well," Ann said, "I can't be robbed sighted."

Mike got up, walked down the hill, located Ann's cabin, went in, found the box, picked it up, and headed back to where Ann was waiting, still held in the arms of Jason Voorhees.

"Give it to me," said Ann, "and I'll open it."

Mike handed over the box, and turned away as Ann began fiddling with a small combination lock set into the front. After a few seconds, he heard a click, and he knew that her efforts had been successful.

"How did you do that?" he asked, "that was a combination lock you just opened, but you can't see the numbers."

"I had the dial brailed," said Ann.

"I see," said Mike, "you never cease to amaze me."

"Well," Ann said, "now that you've been properly amazed, let me show you what's in here."

She raised the lid of the box, revealing a large collection of books, papers, and several notebooks. Most of the books looked to be spell books of various kinds, and the papers looked to be notes compiled by Ann herself, for they were all in Braille, as were the books. The notebooks, on the other hand, were in print, and Mike suspected that they had been read to Ann at some time, and that the loose sheets of Braille paper were her own transcriptions of their contents. Mike wondered how Ann could tell the difference between the printed notebooks, but then he saw Braille labels on them.

"It must be nice not to have to deal with Christian parents," said Mike, "look at all this. You must have half the magic library of the known world in there."

"Who said I asked permission?" Ann asked, "even if I had Christian parents, they wouldn't stop me."

She reached into the box, and brought out one of the notebooks. She handed it to mike, and said, "Here's where you'll find references to the color out of space."

Mike opened the book, and began to read aloud, so Jason wouldn't be left out of any subsequent conversations, which would most likely arise when he finished. The notebook seemed to be the journal of a man who had been involved in the building of a reservoir in the town of Arkham Massachusetts in the 1920s. It told of how the writer had been surveying the proposed sight, and come upon a five acre stretch of gray, dust-covered waste land known by the Arkham locals as "The Blasted Heath," and how he had begun inquiring as to the origin of the place. An old man, who's :crazy tales" he was advised to pay no attention to, told him of how the farm which had stood on the sight, had been invaded, and decimated by an alien being, brought there inside a meteor. The being was nothing but a cloud of alien color, which had taken up residence in the well, and emerged at intervals to suck the life out of various living things, such as plants, trees, livestock, and at last, human beings. The victims of this formless creature were left as gray, brittle, crumbling husks. The being had escaped, leaving another of it's kind trapped in the well. According to the journal, the second being was feeding itself a bit at a time, but not making much headway, but that, he indirectly said, would change, once people began drinking the new city water of Arkham.

When Mike reached the place in the journal, which contained the dying words of the farmer, "It lived in the well," he noticed that Jason's body had gone rigid with fear. He knew why too. Jason had nearly drowned; in fact, most residents of the town of Crystal Lake believed that he actually had.

"I wonder if reading this particular book aloud to Jason was such a good idea," he thought, "I've probably succeeded in giving him about 80 years worth of nightmares."

He closed the book, returned it to its place in the box, and turned to Ann, after making sure that Jason wasn't going to have a panic attack, or something. There really wasn't that much he had to do. Ann had her arms around Jason, and was running her hands gently up, and down his back.

"What happened then," Mike asked.

"Arkham became, and still is a ghost town," answered Ann, "no one else will live there. Everyone thinks it's cursed."

"You mean that thing killed every one in the city?" asked mike.

"Yes," said Ann, "it took a few years, but the thing got strong on them, and escaped into space, just like the first one did. In fact, there isn't even anything there to indicate that there was ever a town there at all. It's just another blasted Heath."

"Wonderful," Mike said, "if you want to clear an old defunct town out of the way, all you have to do is find an alien in a meteor, drop it into the town's water supply, and wait for all hell to break loose. One thing I will admit, the thing put on a pretty good lightshow, by all accounts, do you think there are any more of those things there?"

"No, there were only two," said Ann, "as you know, the second one was sighted just after the first one escaped. No third one was seen."

"What about the haunter of the dark?" asked Mike.

Ann reached into the box again, and handed Mike a second notebook. The name in the inside cover was Robert Blake.

"Blake," said Mike, "do you think this guy Robert was a relative of Donna the bitch?"

"As a matter of fact," said Ann, "he was Donna's Grandfather."

The notebook turned out to be a diary, which told the story of the accidental release of a being of great power, and greater evil. Blake had entered a deserted church in the town of Providence Rhode Island, utilized by a dark cult known as, "Starry Wisdom," and had discovered a crystal supposed to possess the power of seeing beyond the universe of light, and into other dimensions. The being summoned by the crystal was supposed to be repelled by light, and banished by strong light. On the last night of Robert Blake's life, a thunder storm had put the city's lighting system out of commission, and the being escaped it's confinement in the darkened church, and killed him. According to some newspaper articles Ann showed Mike, Robert Blake's death was attributed to lightning, or massive shock, brought on by electrical discharge. Also, according to the articles, a young doctor had taken the crystal, which had supposedly started the whole thing, and thrown it into the bay.

"I wish he hadn't done that," said Ann, "I'd have liked to have seen it."

"You would," said Mike, "your always collecting things like that."

"Yeah," Ann said, "you never know when they'll come in handy."

"That's what I want," said Mike, "a magic crystal that summons a demon to kill me when I look into it. That goes right below a machine that blows up when I turn it on, on my list of things to get this week."

"Really?" asked Ann, "what machine does that?"

"I don't know," said Mike, "I didn't buy it. I will say this though, whenever one of Donna's family fucks up, they do it in style. First of all, her wonderful old Grandpa sets loose a demon that has nothing better to do than kill the guy who wakes it up, and then her Mother, and Father don't have the sense to use birth control on the night she was conceived."

"You're right," said Ann, "Donna's family is full of fuck-ups."

"I guess you could say that the whole family's fubar," Mike said with a smile.

"What in the world is fubar?" asked Ann.

"Fucked up beyond all recognition," replied Mike, "the saying is related to snafu."

"And what does that mean?" asked Ann.

"Situation normal, all fucked up," said Mike.

"That certainly describes Donna," Ann answered with a laugh, "now, back to business. We still have the Deep Ones to contend with."

The third notebook from the bag turned out to be the diary of a young man who had come to Massachusetts to trace his family history, and ended up in an extremely strange little fishing village, known as Innsmouth. While there, he had discovered that there was a great deal more to the town than outsiders suspected, such as, a cult of Cthulhu worshipers, mysterious disappearances, and traffic with things from the sea. An old sea captain named Obed Marsh had started the whole thing after visiting an island inhabited by a tribe of Indian-like natives, who told him of their gods, frog-like fish, or fish-like frogs. Obed Marsh brought the islanders' religion back to Innsmouth, together with a great deal of gold. From there, the decay of the town had begun. People had begun mating with the "fish-frogs," and producing half-human spawn who were born human, but who changed as they grew, and finally took to the sea. A year after escaping the strange little town, and discovering that he was indirectly related to Obed Marsh, he himself began to feel the change. Obed Marsh himself had mated with one of the fish frogs, and had had a daughter, who was married to an outsider by a trick. The young man, a resident of Ohio, finally made the decision to take to the sea himself, taking his cousin, who had spent the previous few years in a madhouse, with him. The notebook didn't say for certain if the plan succeeded, but left the reader wondering.

"Holy shit!" Mike exclaimed, "I wouldn't have even suspected that half of this stuff was going on. How the hell did people keep it hidden for so long? The most recent notebook is from the late 20s."

"People don't like to talk about things they don't understand," Ann replied, "just like Chris Parker's parents don't like to talk about what happened earlier this year."

"Why don't they?" asked Mike, "I mean, she wasn't hurt, she wasn't killed, nothing actually happened to her apart from a good solid scare, and yet, they're acting like the Ministry of Truth from 1984. What are they going to do next, vaporize some body?"

"Think about it," said Ann, "Jason's supposed to be dead, and yet he attacked her in the woods, and for some reason, carried her back home. Would you talk about your daughter being attacked by a dead man?"

"That's assuming," said Mike, "that they knew who attacked her. I mean, some one attacks a girl in the woods, so what? Do _I_ automatically blame Jason? There have got to be more than a few criminals hanging around in the woods around here, hiding from the cops. _I_ wouldn't automatically think "Jason Voorhees". After all, there was that guy everyone calls the bushman. Why didn't they think he, or one of his relatives did it?"

"What if they'd known Jason when they were kids?" asked Ann, "Chris described him to them. What if they recognized the description as belonging to Jason?"

"But that still doesn't answer my question," said Mike, "wouldn't you think that they'd be glad he didn't drown?"

"What if there's more to what happened to him than we know," inquired Ann, "what if it wasn't just a case of a boy who couldn't swim being in the water, and two counselors fucking at the wrong time? What if he was thrown in?"

"Are you saying?" asked Mike, "that a bunch of campers tried to murder him? If so, for what reason?"

"Jason is deformed," said Ann, "I can tell that even through his hood, or whatever it is. What if some kids thought it would be cool to throw him into the lake because he looked different?"

"So that's it?" Mike asked, "a dislike for the unlike? It sounds like too stupid of a reason to want some one dead.

"Kids can be cruel," said Ann, "sometimes, they can be even more so than the worst dictator to ever walk the world."

"Yeah," said Mike, "but trying to kill a kid because of the way he looks? I know that kids can say some pretty cruel things, but murder?"

"Is it all that different than a kid shooting small animals with a 22 rifle?" asked Ann.

"Animals are one thing," said Mike, "But kids, even ones who don't look the same as every one else are another."

At that moment, Jason's body stiffened, and his arms drew tighter around Ann. Mike saw why a second later. Joan was coming up the hill, carrying a basket of food.

"I see you found Ann," she said, "but who's that holding her?"

"Well, Joan," said Mike, "it's time for me to eat a little crow. This is Jason Voorhees, the man I said couldn't be alive."

"That's Jason?" asked Joan.

"That's the way it's looking," said Mike.

"Would you like something to eat?" Joan asked, looking at Jason as she did.

Jason nodded his head, and Joan opened the basket. She selected a couple of sandwiches from inside, unwrapped them, handed them to Jason, who took them, and began to rise, picking Ann up at the same time.

"Hey, Jason," said Joan, "why are you leaving?"

"They probably want to have a little afternoon delight after they're done eating," said Mike.

"No," Ann said, "we've already done that, and my vagina needs a rest."

"That's more information than we ever needed," Joan said, blushing to the roots of her hair.

"I know why he thinks he has to leave," said Ann, "it's his face."

"What about his face?" asked Joan.

"From what Ann told me," said Mike, "he's deformed. He probably thinks that we'll make fun of the way he looks, or something."

"I certainly won't do that," said Joan, "and I know you wouldn't either."

"That's true," said Mike, "but he doesn't know that."

"Come on, it's ok," Ann said, patting Jason's hand, "they're not going to say anything."

An hour later, Joan, Mike, and Ann were on their way back to the camp. Jason went part of the way with them, but most of the way back, he diverted from their course, and headed in the direction of the lower outhouse.

"Why is he going down there?" asked Mike, " there's a perfectly good bathroom up here."

"I don't know," said Joan, "Maybe he hears some one in the one up here."

"Maybe," Ann said, "but even if he didn't hear any one in there, there's going to be some one in there very shortly."

"Who?" asked Mike.

"Me," said Ann, "I need to take a shower."

"Another one?" asked Joan, "if you keep that up, you'll be known the world over as the cleanest girl in Crystal Lake."

"Well, duh!" said Mike, "she needs to clean the cum out of herself."

"Oh shut up, Mike," said Joan, "that's nasty!"

"What did you expect me to say?" asked Mike, "did you expect me to say, she needs to cleanse herself of Jason's sperm?"

"I'll leave you two to argue over the semantics of what I'm going to do, and take my second shower of the day," said Ann, "I've got to win that title of Crystal Lake's cleanest 14 year old. I'll see you later."

Chandra Davis walked unsteadily down the path to the outhouse. She had to piss like a racehorse, and it was no wonder. It was only 2 o'clock in the afternoon, but she'd already consumed a case and a half of beer, and she wasn't done yet. She intended to finish out the second case when she got back to Jimmy's cabin, but first, there was the little matter of her full bladder to deal with. She reached the outhouse, tried to open the door, missed the knob completely, aimed a kick at the wall, something she regretted immediately, and tried for the knob again. This time, she got it, and hobble-wobbled into the outhouse, approached the platform, pulled up her dress, and dropped gracelessly onto her ass. She urinated for what seemed like a year, got up, tried to straighten her dress, not doing a very good job of it, and wobbled back to the door. She managed to open it, took two staggering steps outside, fell sideways, collided head first with the outhouse wall, said, "fuck!" loudly enough to be heard a long way off, even with the noise from the cabin, regained her feet, and tried again. This time, she managed to stay upright, and headed back in the general direction of Jimmy's cabin. She wondered if Donna, and Beth would be there. She hoped so, because she hadn't had a good joint in a week, and she needed some weed to go along with the beer. After a few wrong turns, she made it back, opened the door, causing the racket inside to escape full force into the surrounding area, stumbled inside, shut the door, and half sat, half fell onto the nearest chair. She grabbed a fresh can of beer out of the case, popped the top, and began the job of emptying it. She looked around for Donna, and Beth, but didn't see them. That didn't really surprise her, Jimmy didn't like either of them, and if they had shown up, he'd probably told them to, "Get the fuck out!"

She was just finishing her beer, when a hand settled on her leg, and began to make its way under her disarranged dress. She looked around, and saw Jimmy standing there.

"How about a good time," he said.

"Go on," Chandra said, "I'm busy."

"Oh well," said Jimmy, "it's your loss."

"No it's not," Chandra countered, "it's yours. Now, get out of my face, unless you have some good weed."

"Oh, shut up you little whore!" Jimmy nearly shouted, "why don't you find Donna, and lick her pussy for a while? I know you're secretly in love with her."

Chandra raised her right hand, drew it back, and tried to slap Jimmy, but he was too quick for her.

"Try it again when you're not loaded," said Jimmy, "When you drink, your aim sucks the root."

"Fuck you, and the horse you rode in on!" screamed Chandra.

"Well, Jimmy," said another one of the diehard partiers, "looks like you just got the brush."

"Why don't you cram it, Andy?" asked Jimmy.

"Why don't you find a girl who's not scum?" asked Andy, "or is it that your dick says, "Go!" before your brain can say "No!"

"Fuck you," said Jimmy.

"No thanks," said Andy, "I don't swing that way."

As Chandra left the outhouse, a figure stepped from behind a tree. It followed her unsteady path down the trail for a while, and then deviated from the path, and into the woods. It was Jason, and he was heading back to his place, at lease for a little while. There were some things he needed to get, and some things he needed to do. One of the things he had to do was make sure his place was shut up tight; another was to get himself something to eat. He would normally have waited till there was no one looking, and taken some of the food from some one's lunch basket, but Ann was here, and she needed to eat too. Therefore, he would get his own food. He had had a couple of sandwiches when he'd been sitting at the camp with Ann, but he needed to get some more food for later. He was, after all, good at hunting, and trapping. After the food was seen to, he would come back to the camp. He didn't like some of the people there; they reminded him of the counselors who had let him nearly drown, after those horrible children had thrown him into the lake. Some of them, such as, "the boy who read stories," didn't, and Jason liked him, just as he liked "the girl who fixed people's hair," "the boy who drove the blue van," and "the girl who believed crazy things that didn't happen," and then there was Ann. But, there were some here that he didn't like, and thought "deserved to be punished," like the one who had shouted at him, and called him a loser. She was like the counselors too, and she didn't like Ann. She hadn't done anything to Ann, or "the boy who read stories" yet; other than making him cry, but that wasn't to say she wouldn't do something worse. She'd need watching, as wood some of the others. He could do that too, he was good at watching people, and not being seen, and maybe he'd deal with a few "bad people who deserved to be punished" before the day was done. He reached his place a short while later, and discovered that some one had been in it. He didn't know who, but nothing seemed to have been disturbed. He walked through the first room, and into the second. There was Mommy's head, waiting for him to do his job, so she could come back. There were his things, the weapons on the wall, the extra clothes, and his hunting things, homemade traps, and so on. He got some of these, took the machete from the wall, walked out of his place, closed the door, and walked down one of the paths in the woods. "Food now," he thought, "punishment later."

Mike walked into the cabin he shared with Johnny, Brenda, and Joan, opened the door to the closet, picked up his backpack, looked in it for a pack of cigarettes, found one, pocketed it, and went back outside. The cabins were nice to sleep in, but they got hotter than the hinges of Hell in the middle of the day. There wasn't even a self-respecting fan to be found around the place, but Mike wasn't surprised. The camp had been closed down for the last three years, and everything of value that had still been there after Pamela's killing spree had been either taken by the police, or by enterprising teenage bandits, not that there were that many teens in the state of Massachusetts who would dare to enter the grounds. As he sat down on the ever popular tree stump, he began wishing that the cabins were a bit cooler, for the idiots in the "Party Palace" were apparently trying to discover just how much noise they could safely make, without shattering the crust of the earth, not to mention, a few sets of innocent eardrums. There was no getting away from them. Everywhere you went, you could hear them, except if you left the campground altogether, and set up house in the woods like Jason had.

"Hey," said Joan, "would you like some company?"

Mike, who had just taken a drag on his cigarette, nearly choked in surprise. When he got his breath back he said, "Yeah, but don't ever do that again! You nearly took 10 years off my life!"

"Sorry," said Joan, "I didn't mean to scare you like that."

"That's all right," said Mike, "normally I'd have heard you, but with that crap going on down there, it's a wonder any one can hear themselves think."

"Has any one seen Donna?" asked Joan.

"I didn't think any one wanted to find her," said Mike, "why were you wondering?"

"Because Beth just got back with her head ache pills," said Joan.

"Oh Christ," said Mike resignedly, "Donna and her fucking pills. I wonder what her next imaginary illness is going to be.

"Let's see," said Joan, "so far this week, she's had head aches, stomach aches, dizziness, vomiting, and the runs."

"If she wouldn't drink so much," said Mike, "she wouldn't have those problems. She brings it all on herself."

"I know," said Joan, "but you can't tell her that."

"Of course not," said Mike, "if she were to do something as intelligent as actually realizing that all her problems are self inflicted, she'd shock the entire universe."

"What do you mean got back?" asked Johnny from behind them, causing Mike to nearly drop his cigarette, "she doesn't have a car, or a driver's license."

"She didn't care that she doesn't have a license," said Joan, "but she took the van in to town."

"If she does that again," said Johnny, "I'll kick her fucking ass, girl, or not."

"You know," said Mike, "I don't blame him. If she'd gotten picked up for driving without a license, in a stolen van, we'd have had no way back to town."

"How'd she get the keys?" asked Johnny.

"She got into your jacket pocket and took them," said Joan.

"God damn," said Johnny, "I guess I'll have to keep them with me at all times from now on."

"That sounds like the best idea," said Mike, "apparently, you can't even leave your keys unattended for a second with Beth Porter here."

Johnny walked to the van, looked in through the driver's side window, and said, "Why that fucking little twit!"

"What's wrong," asked Joan, "did she break the rear view mirror, or something?"

"No," Johnny replied, "she ran us out of gas!"

"Well," said Mike, "it looks like it's Shank's pony back to town."

"I for one am not walking all the way back to town," said Johnny.

"Then how do you expect to drive without gas in the van," asked Joan.

"Beth Porter's going to walk back to town," said Johnny, "and get us some more."

"Not likely," said Mike, "she's stoned out of her mind in one of the cabins right now."

"I don't give a rat's ass!" shouted Johnny, "she didn't ask me if she could use the fucking van, and she certainly didn't ask if she could run the fucker out of gas!"

Chandra was once again on her way to the outhouse. She had actually managed to finish the second case of beer, and part of a third before she felt the call of her kidneys again, but this time she had a more difficult time getting to where she wanted to go. She wove unsteadily from side to side, bumping trees at nearly every staggering step. She finally reached the outhouse, tried to open the door, missed the knob again, tried again, got it, stumbled inside, pulled up her dress, and dropped onto the seat. She did her business, tried to get up, fell back after rising only an inch, leaned her head forward, and vomited between her shoes.

After her stomach had decided to let her keep at least some of the beer down, she tried to rise again. Before she could, the outhouse door opened. The upper body of a large man filled the doorway. Chandra couldn't see who the guy was, it was too dark in the outhouse for that, but she was pissed at the fact that she couldn't even take a piss in peace.

"This un's full asshole," she said, "go da the other un, I know you know where id is."

The shape of the man leaned slightly forward; one hand behind it's back. Chandra wondered foggily what the guy was up to, but at the next moment, the hand came out from behind his back, revealing a machete. Chandra tried to rise from the seat again, didn't make it, and fell back again. The machete was thrust forward with terrific force, imbedding itself in her chest. Blood splattered the walls, the ceiling, the door, the seat, and the small window directly behind Chandra. She tried to rise again, but the blade of the machete was pinning her to the back wall. She opened her mouth, and blood spurted out, accompanied by a wet grinding sound, "Graaaag "

Chandra's body writhed on the seat like a beetle pinned to a card. The figure reached forward, grasped her neck, and slowly twisted it. There was a sound like a bundle of twigs snapping in a powerful hand, and all movement ceased. Chandra Davis, cousin of Rick, who would meet his death at Jason's hands in 1984, was dead, pinned to the wall like a ghastly trophy.

The water from the shower was soothing, and Ann allowed it to cascade over her back and shoulders. For the first time in her life, she felt completely fulfilled. Her nipples ached from being suckled, her clitoris throbbed painfully from repeated licking, her vagina felt tender from the ruthless pounding it had now twice received, and every muscle in her body reminded her of the strenuous use to which they had recently been put. The sound of the water was soothing as well, and Ann once again began to contemplate her future.

There was, she decided; no more time to "act her own age," as her adopted mother put it. It was still early in the summer, and Ann had a number of colleges interested in her. Could she get her books in Braille in time for the fall semester? Probably not. One more semester of high school then, while she made arrangements, and then it would be college for Ann Miller.

Ann truly hated leaving her friends, but leaving her adopted parents, or so they called themselves, wouldn't be so much of a trial. In truth, she hated both of them. She hated her slovenly father, who ate from his own store shelves, and, when Ann had first arrived, used to fuck her when he got drunk. He had done this regularly, at least for the first six months she had lived with the Millers, until Ann, at age thirteen, had lied to him, telling him that she was getting her period. That little friend hadn't actually started paying her visits for another year, for some unknown reason, but Herald Miller had been terrified when Ann mentioned that she could get pregnant with his baby, and that Edna, who insisted that Ann call her Mother, would then have to find out how her husband was getting his rocks off.

"They don't think much of men who rape their thirteen year old adopted daughters in prison, Daddy Dear," Ann had said coldly. "they fuck men like that straight up the ass in there. And Mommy will be so angry with you when she finds out, that she'll put you there. After all, it would be a great excuse to get rid of you, and that's what she wants. I want that too, Dad, so I'm warning you. You try for me again, and I'll cut it off, stick it in the blender and serve it to you in one of your god-damned milk shakes. Are we clear on that?"

If Ann had known just how well that would have worked, she would have tried it the first time he'd tried to get up her dress. Her father, a coward, stomped and raged for a while, but never touched her again.

Her mother was a loud, stupid, whining insufferable nag. She preached a litany of morals, and practiced none of them, screamed at everyone from her husband and Ann, to the few customers, (mostly out of towners), who dared shop in their store. Ann sometimes wondered if her mother wasn't sleeping with the health inspector to keep him out, but then, the health inspector would have to be a desperate man indeed. The bitch probably even nagged in bed.

Ann turned off the shower, got out, dried, dressed, and put on her ring. It felt so good to feel its cold metal reality on her finger. She was not, and never again would be alone. Her mother would whine, and her father would grouse, but Ann saw Harvard in her very near future, and Mummy and Daddy Dearest would just have to grin and bare it, and if they didn't, who cared? She could always become legally emancipated from them.

"Emancipated, just like a slave," she thought. "Well, I'm nobody's slave, least of all that of Herald of the two inch dick, and Edna of the eternally flapping gums. Nobody owns me, accept Jason, and I own him, so that's safe enough."

Ann walked out of the shower, unaware that she carried about her a look of hard determination that gave her beautiful face the strong definition it would have in later years. Within twenty-four hours, Ann Miller had completely become a woman.

Shouting from the direction of the van made Ann quicken her step. She rounded the corner in time to find Mike, Joan, Johnny, and now Brenda standing disgustedly by the van.

"Hey, what's up?" Ann asked, knowing from the sound of their raised voices as she walked up that it couldn't be pleasant news.

"Oh, that twit Beth drove the van without a license, emptied the gas tank, and didn't bother refilling it," Mike informed her, kicking at a tree stump.

"Make her go get some more," Ann replied.

"She's probably in Jimmy's party palace," Johnny said moodily.

"Then, I'll yank her out by the hair if I have to," Ann retorted. "I'm not walking all the way back to town!"

The four friends exchanged frightened, and yet admiring glances at Ann's straight, unafraid back as she walked defiantly toward Jimmy's House of Noise.

Mike, Joan, Johnny, and Brenda followed Ann down the hill, and toward Jimmy's "Party Palace, and All Around Noise Generating Plant" to find Beth before she got too plastered to drive, and call her on the carpet about her unscheduled trip to town with the van. As they approached, they all wondered how any one inside was still in possession of their hearing. The noise, which passed for music on the planet Palmer, was going full blast, and people were yelling at the top of their lungs.

We're going in there?" asked Mike, "do you think we'll come out with our ears, not to mention our sanity in tacked?"

"I think we will," said Ann, "but at the moment, I don't care if we lose a little hearing. We haven't seen Beth since she got back, so she must be in there."

"What if she's not?" asked Johnny, "what if she's crashed out in the same cabin as Donna, and Christine?"

"I think we would have noticed," said Mike, "we saw the two of them go into Ann's cabin, and didn't see any one else go in there afterwards."

"Well, let's get this over with," said Johnny, "I can think of about a hundred things I'd rather be doing right now."

"Like what?" asked Mike.

"Like spending some quality time alone with Brenda," said Johnny.

"I know what's on your mind," said Mike, "say no more."

Ann, who was in the lead, opened the door to "The Great Noise Factory," walked across to the tape deck, not without some difficulty due to the number of people who had their feet stuck out into the main traffic area of the cabin, and hit the stop button. Silence descended, and Ann said, "Get your fucking ass over here, Beth!"

:Hey!" cried Jimmy, "what's the idea?"

"The idea," said Ann, "is that I want Beth Porter to get her ass over here immediately! She owes Johnny a tank of gasoline."

"Oh," said Jimmy, adopting a fake British accent, "I'm so, so sorry that dear old Johnny's van is low on petrol, but Elizabeth isn't here at the moment, she went to see a man about a dog. In other words, she's gone to the shit house."

"Oh, what culture," said Mike, "what do you do for your next magical trick,, make a cultured university student sound like a backwoods hick?

"Yeah," said Jimmy, "and all I'd have to do is pattern his speech after yours."

"Fuck off, and die," said Mike.

"See what I mean?" asked Jimmy, "now, back to you, Ann, why'd you come busting in here, and turn off my tape deck?"

"Because, you stupid idiot," said Ann, "it was the only way to get any one's attention in here."

"Well," said Jimmy, "you just get over there, and turn it on again."

"I don't take orders from you," Ann retorted, "so it's staying off until either you, or one of the other sots in here turns it back on."

"Last I heard," said Jimmy, "it wasn't your machine."

"Last I heard," Mike said, "we didn't invite your asses up here in the first place."

Jimmy crossed the floor, and punched mike in the gut. Mike fell writhing to the floor, and Jimmy placed his foot on Mike's throat, "You don't smart off to me, ass hole," he said, "I told you I'd kick your ass if you kept on running your mouth at me, and now, see what you've gotten yourself into?"

Ann, meanwhile, had been fishing in her purse, and now she brought out her cane. She kept it folded, for it was not going to be used as a mobility aid, but as a weapon. She crept quietly up behind Jimmy, who was now attempting to choke Mike with his left foot, and brought the cane down on the back of his head with all the force she could muster. There was a loud smacking sound, and blood flew from the place the cane had struck. Jimmy fell to the floor, knocked out.

"That'll teach you to do that," Ann said.

"You don't have too, Ann," said one of the drunks, "he knows how."

"Would you shut the fuck up," said Ann, "and as for you, Jimmy, you got what you deserved.

"Yeah," said Johnny to the unconscious teenager, "she told you, in so many words, to watch your step around here, but you wouldn't, so you got yours good!"

"Hey, stupid," said the same drunk who had told Ann that she didn't have to teach Jimmy how to hit Mike, "he's out like a light."

"Oh, shut the hell up, beer breath," said Johnny.

Joan, meanwhile, had knelt beside Mike, and was helping him to his feet.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I will be," Mike said weakly, "did any one get the number of that truck?"

"That truck, as you call him," said Joan, "is currently knocked out on the floor."

"Who did that?" asked Mike, "I didn't see. I was too busy finding out how the world looked with my head on backwards, and up side down."

"Ann cold cocked him with her cane!" Johnny exclaimed, "what a shot! I see a bright future for her on the Lake View High baseball team. She'd knock every ball thrown to her over the fence!"

"Sorry, not interested," said Ann, "thanks for the offer, though."

"Let's get out of here," said Brenda, "the close presence of so many drunken sots is making me want to upchuck."

"Very lady-like expression, Brenda," said Ann.

"Why, thank you, Ann," said Brenda, "I knew I'd make it one of these days."

"I agree with Brenda," said Mike, getting his breath back a little, "I think there are a great many things we could be doing right about now."

"Like what?" asked Joan.

"Well," said Mike, "I for one could use a dip in the lake. Some people around here, such as The Eternal Drunkard's Society, may not notice how hot it is, but to me, the heat's just plain murder."

Beth didn't notice that there was a fight going on back at the cabin. She'd managed to get herself completely disoriented, and as a result, couldn't find her way anywhere. She groped around in the woods she had somehow managed to end up in for a while, but then she got her bearings, and started in the direction she thought the outhouse to be in. She came out of the trees, and started down the path, but at first, toward the cabin, but she got squared away, and headed for the outhouse. She reached it, opened the door, and stopped dead.

The body of Chandra Davis was seated on the platform, pinned to the wall with some kind of knife. Beth didn't know what a knife like that was called, all she knew was, she didn't want to end up on the wrong end of it, but what was she thinking? Some one had stuck Chandra like a pig, and they might still be here. She opened her mouth to scream, and a large hand settled on her face, and began to squeeze. The pressure increased. She could feel the bones in her face beginning to grind together, and she knew that the moment of her end had come. And still the pressure increased, and increased, until she was sure her head would explode, and still the hand continued to bare down.

Jason continued to squeeze the bad girl's head. This was one of them who spent time with the one who had called him a loser, and she deserved to be punished. So he squeezed her face as she screamed beneath his hand. Finally, the bad girl stopped moving. She'd taken her punishment, and she wouldn't be able to do anything to Ann, or any one else ever again. Jason looked down at his hands, and saw gray stuff, like the stuff in the heads of the animals he hunted, Mommy had told him that people, and animals had brains in their heads, so he supposed that that was what this stuff was. He wondered, therefore, what people meant when they said, "This person," or "That person doesn't have a brain." He didn't see how that could be possible. The bad girl who killed Mommy had had brains too. He'd seen them when he'd shoved the ice pick into her head. He supposed that when people talked about some one not having a brain, that they were just being stupid.

He dragged the bad girl's body into the bushes, and went into the outhouse to get the other one, and his machete. After he got the other one into the bushes, he headed for the lake to clean off. He knew he needed it. He had blood all over him, and he wanted to get it off. After a while, if you left it for too long, it would dry, and itch your skin. He walked beside the path, and saw Ann, the boy who read stories, the boy who drove the blue van, and the two girls who always talked to Ann, coming out of the cabin that was full of loud people. He didn't know if all of them in the cabin were bad yet, but he'd find out. Not now though, now it was time to get cleaned up. As he headed for the lake, he saw that one of the boys who had come with Ann, and the others had stopped by the blue van, and was looking inside. After a moment, during which he said one of the curse words Mommy sometimes had said when she had been angry, he moved to the back of the van, opened the door, brought out a gasoline can, shook it, said another curse, and began walking back toward town. After another moment, Jason saw one of the girls who had come with the loud people in the cabin the man who read stories called "The Party Palace, and noise factory" come out of one of the other cabins, and follow the boy with the gasoline can. Jason didn't know what she wanted, or why the boy from the van had left the camp with a gasoline can, when there was a perfectly good pump in the lake to fuel up boats, but it didn't seem to Jason that anything bad was going on, so rather than follow them, he continued toward the lake.

Ann was the first one into the lake, followed quickly by Mike, then Joan, then Johnny, and finally Brenda. The five of them stayed in the shallows at first, but soon went deeper.

The water was cool, which was just fine according to them. The sun was beating down, and the temperature was, according to the thermometer hanging on the camp office building, 94 degrees. Any one not smart enough to take a swim in this weather was, as Ann had said on the way to the dock, "as insane as they come."

Mike, and Joan were swimming close to each other, as were Brenda, and Johnny, but Ann was separated from the four of them by at least twelve feet of open water. She was currently doing her best to outrace all of them, or maybe she was just trying to take a shortcut back to town. If that was the case, however, Mike wondered how she'd carry the can of gasoline back across the lake to where it was needed. On second thought, Mike knew that she wasn't trying to get back to town by swimming, but it certainly looked like she was.

Suddenly, Mike noticed that he could no longer see Ann. She'd been there one second, and the next; she'd simply been gone. He turned in all directions, but couldn't see her anywhere. "Hey," he said, "where's Ann?"

"She's right in—" Joan began.

"What's she doing?" asked Johnny, "playing an aquatic version of hide, and go seek?"

"I don't know," said Mike, "but I don't like it."

Ann loved the water. She was a strong swimmer, and had had lessons since she was three years old. The only thing missing from this scene as far as she was concerned was some good rock. She was about to break the surface and ask one of the others to grab some tapes and a tape deck, when a cold, clammy hand slid around her leg and began dragging her under the water.

There were no words to describe that touch. The skin was smooth, cold and slick. The fingers clenched painfully, and seemed to be coated with slime. Ann kicked out with her free leg, but found it ensnared in an equally repulsive grip. She couldn't move, and her lungs were now screaming desperately for air. Panic was filling her like a poisonous flood, and she could not think.

Suddenly, she felt another pair of hands, warm, female hands pulling at her, but seemingly to no avail. Ann's unknown would-be rescuer struggled hard, but try as she might, she could not pull Ann's legs free of the monster's grip.

If Ann could have cried out with shock, she would have. A familiar voice, one that reminded her of summer, lemonade, cookies, rock, and all of the good things that had made her early childhood so pleasant, sounded in her ears.

"Ann, Dear! Try to put your hand above the surface of the water so your friends will see it! Try!"

"What's happening?" Ann nearly screamed in her mind. There was a deep throbbing pain in her forehead, and Ann didn't know how much longer she could keep on thinking clearly.

"She's here! The bitch! The one who used my body to kill those poor teenagers and then let me die when I was no longer useful to it: the bitch that made sure you had to live with those nasty people! She's angry because you destroyed her illusion of Jason's innocence. She's the one that influenced those kids all those years ago! She wanted Jason for herself, and never wanted him to grow up. When she saw that the camp was going to be opened again, she came to me and used me to kill to keep Jason away from people! Now, put your hand up, quick!"

With her last remaining strength, Ann shot her hand into the air. It was a long reach, and as the vicious she demon holding her legs was dragging her down further despite Pamela Voorhees's effort's to save her life, it was becoming increasingly difficult.

"If somebody doesn't save me soon, I'm finished," Ann thought. "I can't hold out much longer."

Jason had just reached the lake, when he saw the man who read stories, the man who drove, and the two girls in the lake. They appeared to be looking for something out in the water, but he couldn't tell what the object of their search was. He moved closer to them, and suddenly saw Ann's hand break the surface. She was under the water, probably caught on another weed.

He turned fully toward the scene before him, and dove in, not caring that he was under the water, not caring that he was usually afraid of it. He swam as best he could toward Ann, and grabbed her around her waste. He kicked out as hard as he could, and broke the surface, carrying Ann with him, sending water spraying in all directions.

He carried Ann back to shore, all the while, trying to get the water out of her lungs. He wished he could speak, for if he could have, he would have told her that it might not be a good idea for her to swim, that water was dangerous, and that the only time you should go in it was to wash yourself. He couldn't, however, so he contented himself with trying to get her breathing again.

Suddenly, a pair of hands tried to take Ann from him. He tried to hold on to her, and the Man who read stories said, "Let me have her, Jason. I've got to give her mouth-to-mouth. It's the only way to get her lungs working again."

Jason let Mike take Ann, and stood watching, as he gave Ann mouth to mouth, stopping only when Ann began breathing on her own. He then gave her back to Jason, and said, "Whatever happened out there, she's going to need some soothing. Can you do that?"

Mike watched as Jason sat down on the shore, and began rocking Ann, and stroking her hair, and back. Low, comforting sounds were coming from his mouth.

"He might not be able to talk," Mike thought, "but he knows what to do. I only hope it works."

"What the fuck happened?" asked Johnny.

"I don't know," said Mike, "maybe there are more weeds down there than we thought."

"That's bullshit," said Johnny, "I think we'd have noticed them. We would have gotten caught in them too."

"Maybe not," said a voice from behind them, "maybe Annie's just doing all this for attention."

"Horse pucky!" shouted Mike; "she wouldn't nearly drown herself just for attention, Donna."

"Oh, Mikey," said Donna, "you don't know her like I do. She's an old attention seeker from way back. She'd do anything to get into the spotlight, and as for that loser she's with, I mean, please. He can't even show his face. Why is that? Is it that he can't bare to be seen in public?"

"Look who's talking," said Mike, "when's the last time you showed your face in the presence of respectable society?"

"Oh, shut up Mikey Wikey," said Donna, "you're just defending her because you still want to fuck her."

"And you're still pissed off because you only look human," said Joan, "when in reality, you're just a stupid dirty waste of flesh, not to mention oxygen."

"Oh, look at that," said Donna, "Mike's consolation prize is jumping on the Annie Wannie band wagon."

"We've got better things to do than listen to this kindergarten," said Johnny, "get the hell out of here, Donna, and let thinking humanity get on with the business of living a good life, without the inconvenience of your mouth constantly running."

"I guess that lets you out then, Johnny," said Donna.

"Very funny," Johnny retorted.

"Can some one kindly shove her head under the water, and not let it come back up?" asked Joan, "I mean, goddamn it! You can't even nearly drown in peace around here."

"Is that a new pastime, now?" asked Mike.

"Yes, no, I don't know what I mean," said Joan.

"Did you ever?" asked Donna.

"Oh, great," said Ann, "I nearly drown, and now I have to put up with Donna again. Can this day get any worse?"

"Yeah, it could," said Mike, "there could be two of her."

"Perish the thought," said Ann, "we're having enough problems with the one we have now."

"Hey, loser," Donna said to Jason, "why didn't you take me up on my offer earlier today?"

"Maybe," said Mike, "it might have something to do with the fact that he doesn't like you, or maybe he just didn't want to smell your dirty pussy."

"Hey, loser," Donna said again, ignoring Mike completely, "why don't you talk for yourself, or is it that you're a mutey?"

"Donna," said Mike, "I'd shut up if I were you."

"Well, you're not me," said Donna, "thank Christ."

"Oh, now she's bringing Christ into the argument," said Joan, "come on Donna, one loser up here is bad enough, and I don't mean Jason."

"Oh, yeah right," said Donna, "Now, you're gonna tell me that that's Jason fucking Voorhees. Come on, he's dead. Then again, if he is Jason, that proves something."

"What does it prove, oh all stupid one?" asked Mike.

"That Annie's in to dead guys," said Donna.

"In that case," said Johnny, "what about that offer you were talking about?"

"What offer?" asked Ann.

"I just offered him a good time," said Donna, "a better time than you'd ever be able to give him."

At that point, Ann tried to get up, and get at Donna, but Jason held her back. He didn't want the bad girl to hurt Ann, and he knew she wood.

"Let go of me!" Ann shouted, "I want to knock this bitch into the middle of next year!"

"Please do," said Joan, "we're sure having a bitch of a time with her this year."

"I will, as soon as Jason lets me go," said Ann, "come on, Jason, let me at her!"

Jason, however, didn't let go of Ann. He knew she was angry, but she was also somewhat shaky on her feet, and he didn't want the bad girl using that to her advantage, like a back shooting outlaw in an old TV western.

"Donna," said Brenda, "why don't you do yourself a favor, and get your ass out of here, before you get it kicked for you."

"Under most circumstances," said Johnny, "I'd inquire as to whether or not she asked some one to kick her ass, but this is Donna we're dealing with here."

"Hey, Jason," said Mike, "where are you going?"

Jason, of course, didn't answer as he carried Ann away. If he could have, he would have said, "Away from all this fighting." He bore her toward the woods, heading back to his place. The cabins were too hot, and Ann wouldn't be able to rest there. His place, on the other hand, was surrounded by trees, and therefore, constantly shaded. After a somewhat short trek through the woods, he reached it, unlocked the door, carried Ann inside, lay her down on the army cot, after getting her out of her wet swimsuit, and slowly undressed.

"Hey," said Mike, "where the hell's Donna?"

"Ask me if I give a damn," said Brenda.

"You don't understand," said Mike, "usually, she doesn't just let an argument go like that. She usually keeps it going for as long as she can. She didn't do that this time, and I don't like that."

"So, you'd rather have her here running her mouth at us?" asked Johnny.

"No," said Mike, "but when she deviates from her normal habit pattern, it usually means trouble. I think I'll try to catch up with her, and find out what the fuck she's up to."

"Better you, than us," said Johnny.

"Don't concern yourself," said Mike, "you, and Brenda can spend your quality time alone, while Joan, and I find out what Donna's doing."

Mike, and Joan left the lakeshore, and made there way down the trail Jason had taken. they had some idea where they were going to end up, and they weren't disappointed. Jason's shack was the only thing the trail in question led to, and from the sounds coming from inside, Ann, and he were having the time of their lives in there, but there was some one else here, and it didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out who it was.

"What the fucking hell are you doing hiding in bushes like some wild whore without a home, Donna?" Joan asked.

"None of your Goddamn business, asshole," Donna retorted.

"Oh, kind of like what they're doing in there's none of yours?" asked Mike, "it's very funny how that concept of own businesses seems to get lost when it's you doing the minding."

"Why don't you just shut your Christing mouths?" Donna inquired.

"Because you haven't lead by example yet," Mike fired back.

"Oh, wow," said Donna, "did you actually use a three syllable word, Mikey?" Donna inquired, "I'm impressed."

"Good," said Mike, "now why don't you get the impressive hell out of here?"

"Cause I don't have to," whined Donna.

"What the fuck are you doing up here spying, anyway?" asked Joan.

"I want to see his dick," answered Donna.

"Why?" asked Mike, "that's one dick you'll never have in your smelly cunt."

"Eat me," said Donna.

"No thanks," said Mike, "I've already done my time in detention this year."

"Oh, come on," said Joan, "detention can't be as bad as the concept of eating that bitch out."

"Have you ever had detention with Mrs. Devine?" asked Mike.

"No I haven't," Joan replied.

"Believe me," said Mike, "you don't ever want to. She stinks almost as bad as Donna, and she quotes the fucking Bible at you all the live long day."

The door opened, and Jason stepped out, machete in hand. He looked at the three people standing there, seemed to think for a minute, turned around, and went back inside. A moment later, Ann's voice drifted out.

"I'm having a nightmare, and it's full of the sound of Donna's mouth," she said.

"No, Ann," said Joan, pulling Mike toward the door, and inside, "unfortunately, it's not a nightmare, she's really here."

"What the fuck's she doing here?" asked Ann.

"Spying," said Mike, "just spying, and minding every business, whether it belongs to her, or not. She said she wants to see Jason's dick."

"Well, she's not going to," said Ann, "now, to more pleasant matters. Who's got a cigarette?"

Joan reached into her purse, got out a pack, handed a cigarette to Ann, after lighting it, and noticed that something new had been added to the things in the first room of the shack. A large bucket of dirt had been brought in, and for a moment, Joan wondered what it was for. Then, she realized what it was. Jason had decided to give Ann the world's biggest ashtray.

From outside, came a loud pounding on the door, which Jason had closed.

"Let me in!" Donna screamed, "let me in, you fucking loser, and let me see your dick!"

Jason went to the door, opened it a crack, and stuck the blade of the machete through. After a few seconds, Donna apparently decided that she didn't want to see Jason's dick quite as badly as she thought she had, and went stomping off, down the trail.

Mike, Joan, and Ann left Jason's shack half an hour later. Mike had noticed some clouds rolling in from the east, and had known that a storm was most likely on the way. Jason hadn't gone with them. He had made it known to Ann by a combination of gestures that he needed to do a little work on the shack's roof before the rain came. One of the things he had done had been to take Ann's swimsuit, and wring it out into her hand from above. Then, he had taken her hand, and placed it on the low ceiling of the shack, then, he had once again wrung water out of the swimsuit, and into her hand.

"I love you, Jason," Ann said with tears filling her eyes.

Jason put his arms around her, and drew her close. After a moment, they separated, and Jason walked inside the shack, and closed the door.

"By the way," said Joan, "look what I found in little Miss Donna's purse."

"What?" asked Mike, "more porn mags?"

"No," Joan answered, "not this time."

She reached into her own purse, and brought out a locket on a gold chain. It looked old, and very expensive. The locket itself was part way open, and the corner of a picture showed through.

"Where do you think she got her hands on something like this?" she asked.

Ann reached forward, and her hands investigated the locket for a moment. Then, she snatched it out of Joan's hands.

"Don't tell me," said Mike.

"It was Ann's," said Joan.

"I told you not to tell me that," said Mike.

"How'd she get her hands on it in the first place?" asked Joan.

"The little bitch probably waited until I took it off to go swimming," said Ann, "and then, sneaked in and took it. I swear I'll kill her before the night's done."

"You'll most likely have to wait in line," said Joan, "right behind Jason."

"Why would she have to sneak?" asked Mike, "She is staying in the same cabin as you."

"She doesn't need a reason," said Ann, "she's just a little fucking sneak at heart. I wish some one would rip it out for her."

"Please, Ann," said Mike, "don't remind me of that Nightfall episode we heard last night. That thing scared the bejabbers out of me."

"The what?" asked Ann.

"The bejabbers," answered Mike, "first cousin to the bejesus."

"I don't even want to know what those are," said Ann, "if it has the name Jesus in it, I steer clear of it."

When they got back to the camp, there was Donna. She was standing in the middle of the open area between two of the cabins, and most of the people who weren't currently so drunk, or stoned that they couldn't walk strait were gathered around her.

"Take a look at this," she was saying, "Ann should really take better care of her shit."

"What does it say?" asked Christine Sonders.

"It says," said Donna, "Dear Ann. This locket was mine when I was young, and now I'm passing it on to you. I had the picture we took at the county fair made into a charm, and put that inside the locket. If you want to replace it with a picture of a boyfriend, that's fine. I hope you enjoy all of your presents. Happy birthday! Love, Pamela! Wow, Ann, the people you hang around with. I wonder what everybody will say about you when I show them this!" Donna's voice had taken on a self-righteous condescending tone, "I wonder what they'll say when they find out that you were friends with Killer Mommy Voorhees."

"Give me that right now, Donna!" Ann nearly screamed, "give it to

me you cunt!"

"Come and get it, you blind bitch," Donna said with a mocking smile.

"Give her the fucking card!" Joan said, her voice nearly rivaling Ann's in the volume department.

"Let the blind cunt get it herself," said Donna.

Ann stepped forward to do battle, but Donna tried to step aside. Mike, who pulled her back into position, stopped her.

"Oh, no you don't," he said, "you're going to get it now. Maybe after this, you'll learn to keep your paws off other people's stuff."

Ann reached Donna, and began raining punches into her face. At first, they seemed to have no effect, but as the blows continued to fall, blood began to flow. Finally, Donna was on the ground, and Ann was doing her best to ram her head into the dirt.

"Ann," said Mike, "stop it! Your scaring the poor innocent worms, grubs, and beetles! You don't think they want to see that, do you?"

"Fuck the fucking worms!" Ann screamed, taking the card, "this bitch is going to learn!"

"How's she gonna learn if you bash her brains out?" asked Christine.

"She doesn't have any brains, you nasty cunt," said Mike, "now, get the hell out of here, the lot of you."

"Come on, Donna," said Christine, helping her to her feet, "I'll bandage your face."

"Oh," said Mike, adopting Donna's world famous baby voice, "ain't dat tute? Twistine's donna help poor widdle Donna Wonna. Maybe her div her a binky too. Maybe her wick her ass for her, and wick her quit wile her ad it. But doe on, help ickle baby Donna Wonna. Some day, her tick knifey wifey in or backy wacky. Her tab you wite in backy wacky, and you'll bweed all over de pwacey wacey, or maybe she'll just det Dougwass after you. You know what he'll do. He'll make you wip your heart wite out of your chesty westy, you know, wike him did to him's bwuther Wobbert in dat Nightfall tory we wissened to at de camp fire wast nighty witey. Doe on, and div her baba now."

"What the hell are you talking about, Mike?" asked Ann, "I couldn't follow a word you just said."

"Didn't you know?" asked Mike, returning to his normal delivery of words, "That's the new language about to sweep across the world."

"What language is that?" asked Ann.

"Nasty slut babien,: said Mike.

"If that's about to sweep across the world," said Ann, "please kill me now."

"Nasty slut babien," said Johnny, "I don't think that language will catch on."

"Neither do I," said Joan.

"Hey," said Mike, "where's Scott?"

"He's on his way back to town," said Johnny, "he found out what Beth did, and decided to save us the trouble of finding her, and get us some gas himself."

"Doesn't he know what it's getting ready to do?" Mike inquired, " It's about to storm like hell. He'll probably get caught in it, and drown, or get struck by lightning."

"He already said that if it gets too bad," said Brenda, "that he'll find a place to wait it out in."

"if such a place exists up here," said Joan.

"Maybe he'll use that house that that family supposedly got butchered in," said Mike.

"What family?" asked Joan.

"No family," Mike answered, "it's just a story."

"Speaking of stories," said Joan, "Did you see how scared Donna was of that Nightfall episode?"

"Yeah," Brenda said with a smile, "I thought she was going to piss her dirty panties."

"Did you hear her screaming?" asked Ann, who knew perfectly well that they had, "she sounded just like a little girl who saw a monster under the bed."

"Poor Donna," said Mike, "imagine being afraid of a radio show. What a sissy-girl."

"Shut up," said Donna.

"Don't tell me to shut up," said Mike, "or I'll get Douglass after you. He doesn't like stupid cunt whores like you."

"Oh, leave her alone," said Christine, "and let me fix her face."

"First of all," said Johnny, "there's no fix to her face, and second of all, don't tell mike what to do, or he's apt to take your picture. I don't know where he got that camera he's got in his back pack, but I don't think you want him to use it."

"What are you talking about?" asked Christine.

"I don't think she was here when we ran the Nightfall episodes," said Mike.

"Yes she was," said Ann.

"She wasn't at the fire," said Joan.

Christine, meanwhile, took Donna's hand, and lead her to the cabin in which the two of them had been smoking dope. The others watched them go, not without some relief.

"Good," said Joan, "that gets rid of them for a while."

At that moment, thunder cracked overhead. The five of them looked up, and noticed that the sky was already dark. The first drops of rain fell, one of them landing on Ann's arm. At almost that same time, Joan began walking quickly in the direction of the cabins.

"Where's she going?" asked Johnny.

"Probably to the restroom," said Brenda.

"Why do they call it a restroom?" asked Mike, "I've never seen any one resting in one.

"Don't ask me," said Johnny, "I don't know."

"Well," said Ann, "while you're all discussing why a restroom is called a restroom, I'm going to find Jason. I've always wanted to fuck during a thunder storm, and if you're smart, Mike, you'll find Joan, and do the same thing."

"Wow!" Mike exclaimed, "Don't you ever get enough? You've already done it with him twice today. I'd hate to be you by tomorrow. You'll be the sorest girl in the state."

"Don't worry about the state of my genitals, and go find Joan," said Ann.

"I think I'll wait till she's done in the comfort station," said Mike.

"There's one I don't understand," said Johnny, "sometimes, it's damn uncomfortable in there."

"I don't think we want to hear about how uncomfortable some bathrooms can be," said Brenda, "but I know a nice comfortable place you, and I can go for a while."

A few minutes later, Joan came back from the cabin, and approached Mike. She had changed out of her swimsuit, and into a short summer dress, and she'd put on perfume.

"Would you like to come with me?" she asked. Mike nodded, took her hand, and walked with her toward one of the empty cabins. Johnny, and Brenda, meanwhile, started in the direction of the cabin they, Joan, and Mike had slept in the previous night. Ann was already gone into the woods, and no one knew where Jimmy was. The punk rock was still blasting out of the party palace, but that didn't mean a thing. For all any one knew, Jimmy was still knocked out, Ann had certainly fetched him a good one with her cane, and Andy Franklin, the drunk who had been making stupid remarks Ann's way may not have been able to keep awake, and the music could have been running for no one, but "the incredible Mr. Nobody."

Joan opened the door of the cabin she had led Mike to, and walked with him inside. She led him to one of the bunks, on which some one had placed a sleeping bag, and a pillow. She sat down on the bunk, and pulled Mike to her, and held him close. She felt him responding, his arms tightening around her. Their lips met, softly at first, and then more urgently. As the kiss grew more passionate, their mouths opened, and their tongues met. Mike's left hand found Joan's right breast, and began stroking it. She moaned softly, and held him even closer. The kiss finally ended, and Joan moved her lips to Mikes ear, and began kissing it. Mike continued to stroke Joan's breast, as she first continued kissing, and then began licking his ear. Mike also began moaning softly, and his right hand moved down her back, stopping at her ass, and squeezed gently. Joan's reaction was immediate. She moaned louder, and began franticly kissing his neck. His left arm went back around her, pulling her even closer, and at the same time, she lay back on the bunk. He gently disengaged his arms from around her long enough to remove his pants, and push her dress up, then, he gently lowered himself onto her. She once again met his lips with hers as they lay in each other's arms, the need in both of them growing with each passing second.

As they kissed, Mike thought of how strange the turns of fortune could be. He had feelings for Joan, but he had always been too shy to say anything, but Joan had taken the responsibility out of his hands. He believed that they would have done it last night, but the racket coming from "Jimmy's House of Nonmusic" would have made it impossible for them to concentrate on each other. Even the storm currently going on outside was nowhere near as bad as the crap blasting the silence out of existence the previous night had been.

As they lay in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow, a loud crash of thunder sounded from outside, and the lights in the cabin, not that there had been that many of them turned on, went dark.

"Well," Mike said, "at least we know where we were getting our power. I heard that the town power lines sucked like an Electrolux, and now we've seen the proof."

The two of them lay together, holding each other, and talking quietly, but not before they had both had cigarettes. Neither one of them had believed, till now, that people needed to smoke after sex, but now, they knew it was the truth. As they basked in the afterglow, they took no notice of the thunder, the rain, or the wind outside. That was all in another world. In here, there were just the two of them, and the sweetness of togetherness.

Ann walked through the woods, heedless of the light rain that was beginning to fall. The rain made a steady, soothing sound, and made her shirt cling tightly to her large breasts. Her body ached, and part of her wondered just what she thought she was doing. Over the past twenty-four hours however, she had become amazingly horny, and extremely unrestrained. Ann had never been sexually inhibited, but on the other hand, she had also never felt so much like an out of control fire. The very thought of Jason made her nipples harden and her vagina start becoming wet, and every time she thought she'd reached the limit of her endurance, she felt another bolt of lust crash through her, rocketing her mind into orbit, and making her forget her aches and pains.

When Ann arrived at Jason's shack, Jason was standing on a ladder, hammering boards into place on the shack's roof. Listening to the rhythmic pounding of the hammer, Ann was swept with such a tidal emotion of love and lust that she found it hard to stand. Removing her shirt, Ann let the rain gently caress her skin. She didn't want to frighten Jason, so she remained quiet until he came down from the roof and saw her. Then, she stripped out of her remaining clothes, and went to him. He held her, rubbing her breasts, squeezing the yielding flesh, rolling the nipple. He put one hand on her ass and gave it a firm hard squeeze that sent lightning bolts through Ann's entire body.

Suddenly, Ann pushed away from Jason, turned and began to run.

"Chase me, Jason!" she cried, laughing a little. "Catch me, if you can!"

A while later, she couldn't tell how long, Ann lay, almost asleep in Jason's arms. An hour or more must have passed, but it didn't matter. She couldn't walk, and didn't want to. She felt better than she ever had in her life, and it didn't matter that she hurt worse than a football player after an extremely rough game.

"Did you like that?? Ann asked, reaching for Jason's hand.

Jason put her hand on his forehead, and then nodded enthusiastically.

"I'm glad," she said, kissing his hand. Then, she drifted off to sleep, unaware of the storm, unaware of the night, unaware that yet more people, this time friends of hers, were coming to the camp, and unaware that Mike was at that moment witnessing something that would drive all sweet thoughts out of his mind, for a little while, anyway.

Mike and Joan went into Ann's cabin, hoping that she was there, although neither of them really expected her to be. Ann was probably with Jason, and they were definitely not in the cabin, where the narrow bunks would have been a bit of a restraint to Jason. They wanted to tell Ann their good news, however, and if she were in the cabin, they could tell her right away.

Ann wasn't in the cabin. Donna and Christine were, however. Donna was lying on her back in Ann's bunk, and Christine was kneeling between her legs, eating Donna out with wild abandon, and fingering herself. A fishy smell filled the air, and Donna was moaning quite loudly, managing to sound like a pregnant sow giving birth.

Mike did not have a problem with homosexuals, and if it had just been two other girls, or two of the boys in the cabin, Mike and Joan would have walked back out again without a comment, but this was just too good an opportunity to miss.

"Hey, Christine," said Mike, "I had no idea you were into fish fucking."

"Yeah," said Joan, "what happened to your good taste?"

"What good taste?" asked Mike, "She hasn't got one."

"Oh, shut, the fuck, up," Donna said, her words coming in fits, and starts.

"Oh," said Mike, imitating Donna's somewhat broken speech, "I, don't, have to, you little, fucking, slut."

"Mike," said Joan, "don't do that. You sound like a sick cow trying to puke."

"Oo, Joan!" Mike exclaimed, putting his hand to his mouth, "it's bad enough seeing those two going at it, I didn't need that particular bad visual to go along with it."

"Why don't, you get, the fuck, out of, my cabin, right now?" hitched Donna.

"I didn't, know," said Mike, hitching in his own right, "that the, cabin had your, name on it."

"Come on," said Joan, "lets get the hell out of here, and find Ann."

They left the cabin, and headed for their sleeping quarters, where their rain gear was stored. As Joan opened the door, however, she, and mike realized that they weren't alone. From inside came the squeak of bedsprings, and Brenda's voice, screaming Johnny's name again, and again.

"Wow," Mike whispered, "we're really batting a thousand this afternoon. First, we walk in on the fish, and the fish fucker, and now we walk in on Johnny, and Brenda."

"I think we should just go find Ann, and not worry about getting our rain gear," said Joan, "this is the first time those two have had any time to themselves, and I don't think they'd appreciate being interrupted."

They left their sleeping quarters, and made their way through the woods. The way wasn't as easy as it had been heretofore, however. The path to Jason's shack was now a small stream, and after only a minute, their shoes were full of water. In addition, the trees weren't keeping the rain off them. Every time the wind blew, they were drenched from above. The thunder cracked overhead again, and again, convincing both of them that there was a lot of electricity in the air.

After nearly an hour, they reached Jason's shack, and Mike knocked softly on the door. They waited to be let in, and at the same time, tried to dry themselves off as best they could, not that they could do much with the old tarp Mike found near one of the shack's walls.

"Mike," said Joan, "I don't think the tarp's going to work."

At that moment, the door opened, and the blade of a machete emerged. It moved left, then right, and then, withdrew.

Jason had been awakened by the sound of movement outside his place, and wondered if the bad girl who hated Ann was back. He gently put Ann down, covered her with a blanket, crossed to the other room, got the machete, opened the outside door, stuck the blade out, and then pulled it back in. He knew who was out there. It was the man who read stories, and the girl who fixed people's hair. He wondered what they were doing here, and why they didn't have anything to keep the rain off them. To Jason, the two of them looked like they'd just fallen in the lake, and had lived there a while.

"Hey, Jason," said Mike, "sorry to disturb you, but we have some good news for you, and Ann."

"What the fuck happened to you two?" asked Ann, still half asleep, "From the sound of it, you were the guests of honor at a flash flood."

"No," said Mike, "just your basic old fashion Crystal Lake thunderstorm."

"Why didn't you wear raincoats?" Ann inquired.

"Oh, because Brenda, and Johnny were kind of busy in our cabin," said Joan, "By the way, do you have a dry cigarette, or two? Ours didn't survive the trip."

"Yes, as long as one of you lights one for me," answered Ann.

Jason got Ann's purse, handed it to Ann, who opened it, got out her cigarettes, passed them to Mike, and waited for him to light one for her. Jason then reached under the cot, and got out the bucket of dirt, and set it on the floor, within easy reach of Ann's hands.

After the three of them had lit cigarettes, Ann said, "So, what's the good news?"

"Mike, and I are together," said Joan, "But the news isn't all good."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Ann.

"We caught Donna, and Christine fucking in your bunk," said Mike, "you might want to just stay up here with Jason during the nights, at least until we fumigate your sleeping bag. Right now, it smells like the infamous Donna fish."

"Mike," said Ann, "I didn't need that."

"If you think hearing about it's bad," said Joan, "Try seeing, and smelling it."

"What the fuck's that slut's problem?" Ann asked, "She has her own bunk! Why couldn't she use it?"

"Hmmm," said Mike, "lets think. Do you think it might have something to do with the fact that Donna Blake's not happy, unless she's spreading misery wherever she goes? Or, maybe it might be that she doesn't like you."

"Well, I don't like her either," said Ann, "but I wouldn't fuck Jason in her bunk."

"Jason's too big for those bunks, anyway," said Joan, "so I don't think the occasion will ever arise."

"Not only that," mike added, "but neither of them have such bad taste as to fuck in Donna's bunk anyhow, considering the smell."

Jason had been sitting beside Ann, but when Mike, and Joan began talking about the smell of Donna's cunt, he half rose, put his hand to his face, and made a disgusted sound. It sounded to Mike as if he were trying to puke, without puking.

"You see," said Joan, "Even Jason doesn't want to see it."

"Remember this," said Ann, "he's had prior experience with Donna. Remember that offer she made him."

"Oh, that's right," said Mike, "I'd hoped he hadn't been forced to be that close to her."

"By the way," said Ann. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," said Joan. "I only wish that we hadn't seen Donna, and Christine going at it afterwards."

"Yeah," said Mike. "that would have even been enough to put a fishmonger off his lunch."

Jason looked at Mike, made another disgusted sound, picked up his machete, and started for the door, after letting Ann know, through a combination of gestures that he would be back. He stepped out into the storm, and headed for the camp, leaving Ann, the man who read stories, and the girl who fixed people's hair alone in his place. He knew that they wouldn't do anything to any of his stuff, and it was time for him to once again make his rounds. Maybe he could punish the last of the bad people there, leaving only the good ones, although he wondered where a couple of them had gone. He had seen one of the good ones who had come with Ann, the man who read stories, and the girl who fixed people's hair walk away from the camp, carrying a gasoline can, and one of the girls who had come with the bad people in the cabin at the bottom of the hill had followed him. He hoped they had seen the storm coming, and had had sense enough to get out of the rain, and that they would be back, but considering how the man who read stories, and the girl who fixed people's hair had looked when they had arrived at his place, he wondered if they had. Apparently, people who didn't live in the woods didn't know how to stay out of the rain, or possibly, they just liked to get wet.

When he reached the camp, the loud noise that some of the bad people called music, Jason didn't understand why, was still coming from the cabin at the bottom of the hill, the one called by the man who read stories, "Jimmy's party palace, and noise factory." There were also other sounds coming from there, and Jason was very familiar with those. Jason moved closer, after checking to make sure that no one else was out looking to cause trouble. At first, he saw no one, but then, the outhouse door opened, and out came the bad man who drank beer, and smoked bad, smelly cigarettes that made people do stupid things, the one called Andy. Jason changed direction, and headed for him.

Andy Franklin came out of the outhouse, pulling his pants up as he went. He started in the direction of the cabin, and then heard the unmistakable sounds of Jimmy fucking a girl. He thought it might be Christine Sonders, he knew it wasn't Donna Blake, and so he started in another direction, but before he could even take two steps, a machete swung through the air, cutting off his life, and his head.

Jason watched as the bad man left the outhouse, and started going first one way, then another. He stepped forward, raised the machete, and swung it. The bad man's head spun into the air, while the blood spouting body fell to the ground, still twitching. Now, there were only two left in the cabin at the bottom of the hill, and the bad girl who hated Ann. He would punish them, and then return to Ann, the man who read stories, and the girl who fixed people's hair.

Jimmy Palmer, and Christine Sonders were going at it like mad in one of the bunks in his cabin. They were the only two left at "The Party," all the others having gone somewhere else, or other. Christine had approached Jimmy shortly after Mike, and Joan had been seen going into the woods, and had asked him if he wanted to have a good time. Jimmy, of course had said yes, and the two of them had begun the festivities by drinking the last case of beer between them, and had gone on to smoke the last of the marijuana, and had concluded by deciding to rut like animals. The two of them were so deeply engrossed in what they were doing, that neither one of them heard the door of the cabin open quietly. It was doubtful that they would have heard it even if they hadn't been paying attention only to what they were doing, the music, or noise as Ann, Mike, and Joan called it, would have masked the sound quite nicely. Not having the faintest idea that they were nearing the end of their lives, Jimmy, and Christine thrust madly into each other, approaching climax.

At the moment at which their orgasm was imminent, the blade of a machete descended, impaling them, pinning them to the bunk. Blood burst from both of their mouths in twin jets, the blood from the one covering the other. In death they remained joined, held together by the blade, which had stabbed through not only their bodies, but the bunk as well.

Jason stood over the two bad people in the bunk, looking down at them. One of them had been the one who had hurt the man who read stories, and the other had been the one who had been with the bad girl who hated Ann, and who had called him a loser. He bent forward, and pulled the machete free of their bodies, and walked into the cabin's bathroom, turned on the shower, stuck the machete's blade under the falling water, and wiped it clean with one of the washrags.

He was just about to leave the cabin, when he heard the sound of approaching engines. He hadn't counted on this. He'd thought that if he punished the bad people who were already here, that there would be no more, but now there were some new people coming, and he'd have to watch again. He knew that he wouldn't have time to punish the bad girl who hated Ann before the knew people got out of there cars, or whatever they'd come in, so rather than going up the hill, he headed into the woods, and back to his place.

"Where do you think Jason was going?" asked Joan.

"Hopefully to take care of the incredible fish bitch," said Mike.

"Please," said Ann. "no more about fish. I don't think I'll ever look at seafood the same way again."

"I didn't think you'd be able to look at seafood the same way after you first saw King Slob the Second interacting with his goldfish," said Mike.

"I don't want to hear about him either," said Ann. "Are you trying to kill my ability to eat dinner, or what?"

"Only if Donna, Christine, or Jimmy do the cooking tonight," said Joan.

"Please don't let them do the cooking," said Ann. "If they ever cook up here, I'll go on a hunger strike."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about," said Mike. "none of them even know the first thing about cooking, their mommies do it for them."

"Why didn't Donna's Mother teach her about cleaning herself?" asked Ann.

"Because Melissa Blake's just as much of a scum bucket as her daughter," said Mike. "If the two of them ever went anywhere together, the smell would kill everything, and every one in Crystal Lake, not to mention, Cunningham County."

"I definitely didn't need that," said Ann.

"Sorry, but it's true," said Mike.

"Hey, Ann," said Joan, "can I have another cigarette?"

"I don't know Joan, can you?" Ann asked, smiling mischievously.

"You know what I mean," said Joan.

"Here you are," said Ann, and passed Joan a cigarette.

"What about me?" asked Mike.

"What about you?" asked Ann, handing Mike one too.

The three of them smoked in silence for a while, listening to the storm, and listening for Jason's return. Just as their cigarettes were nearly done, they heard footsteps outside, footsteps that clearly belonged to Jason.

The door opened, and Jason crossed the room, took Ann's hands, and began gesturing. Mike, and Joan had no idea what he was trying to say, but Ann seemed to understand him perfectly.

"We've got visitors," Ann said.

"Wonderful," said Mike, "I wonder who it is this time."

"I don't know," said Joan, "last time it was Jimmy, and the jackasses. Maybe this time we'll be lucky enough for it to be a couple of Christians."

"Don't you mean unlucky enough?" asked Mike.

"Considering our luck so far," said Joan, "no I don't."

"And the bad taste award for the week goes to Joan Carlton!" Ann said, extending her hands toward Joan, and passing an imaginary trophy to her. Joan completed the act by pretending to take the offered invisible object, bowing to an imaginary audience, and saying, "thank you very much ladies, and gentlemen, I couldn't have done it without you! It's because of you that I'm here now, accepting this beautiful award! Thank you! Thank you!"

Jason stood by Ann, and wondered why she, and the girl who fixed people's hair were acting the way they were. Ann was passing invisible things to people, the girl who fixed people's hair was taking invisible things from Ann, and talking to people he couldn't see, and the man who read stories was sitting on the floor, and laughing so hard that tears were squirting from the corners of his eyes. Jason wondered for a moment if people who didn't live in the woods could see things, and people that people who lived in the woods couldn't. Then he decided that that wasn't it. People who didn't live in the woods could be very bad, and what if they also were a little crazy, like some people were on TV. He decided then, and there, that he would try to tell Ann that she should stay with him in the woods. Then, maybe she wouldn't be in danger of going "cold out crazy," like some of the TV people had. Those people had heard voices, thrown things, smashed things, and talked to walls, doors, and mirrors, and sometimes, they even thought they were other people, and he didn't want Ann to start doing that.

Before Jason could begin gesturing to Ann again, there was a sound outside.

"What was that?" Joan inquired.

"Sounds like we've got company up here, as well as back at the camp," Mike replied.

"I wonder who it is," Joan said.

"Look out," Mike whispered, attempting to sound like the Nightfall host, and not doing a very good job of it, "it's the bushman's evil half brother, come to butcher us all in our beds, or whatever we sleep in."

"The bushman's dead," said Ann, "and to the best of my knowledge, he never had any relatives."

"According to Brenda," Mike said, "there are a whole tribe of them somewhere out here."

"According to Brenda," replied Ann, "aliens are running the government, and there are rats as big as horses in the sewers."

Before the discussion could proceed, someone began pounding on the door, and screaming, "Let me see your dick, loser!"

"Oh, shit on toast," groaned Mike, "it's not the bushman's half brother. It's the supreme stinky cunt of Crystal Lake."

"Who the hell told you you could come up here again, Donna?" Joan inquired, "didn't you know there's a law against littering in the woods?"

"I didn't litter in the woods," Donna retorted.

"Oh, yes you did," Mike shouted, "your in them!"

"Aw," Donna simpered, "Widdle Mikey Wikey's mad tause I didn't wet im wick my puddy."

"I wouldn't want to lick your puddy, I mean, pussy," mike fired at her, "I don't want to be gassed to death by the new, and hither too undiscovered poisonous substance known as Donna Blakian toxic stink."

"You'll pay for that," Donna spat from the other side of the door.

"Oh, yeah?" Mike inquired, "how much money do you want? If it's more than my mother wants me to pay Pastor Dan, you're shit out of luck."

"Oh, you'll find out," Donna answered.

"Can't someone just find a way to lose her, or something?" Joan asked.

"We've already tried that," Mike answered, " but it didn't work."

"Why does she have this thing about seeing Jason's dick?" Joan asked.

"It's the old "Fox and the Grapes" thing," replied Mike, "she knows she'll never have that dick inside her nasty, smelly, stinky, dirty, filthy, fungus incrusted twat, and she's pissed as hell about it."

"Well," said Ann, "I don't want to eat dinner now. I was looking forward to it, but now, I don't think I could even go near food."

"Don't worry," Mike said, "we're not having fish."

"Please," Ann groaned, "don't mention fish."

"Sorry," Mike said, "I'll try to remember not to do that again."

"I think we should head back, and find out whose about to crash our party," Joan said.

"With it doing what it's doing out there?" Mike inquired.

"The rain's stopping," Ann said, "I think we'll be all right."

Scott approached the van, meaning to see if he had left a spare pack of cigarettes in there, but forgot all about smokes when he saw the gas gage.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" he said, "Empty! What the fucking hell is this all about?"

He walked to the back of the van, opened the door, reached inside, found the gas can, pulled it out, shook it, and said, "Mother fuck."

He closed the back door of the van, and turned toward the road. He hadn't walked twenty steps, when a voice from behind him said, "May I come with you?"

He looked around, and saw Ronda Pheagen, the only one who had come with Jimmy Palmer who hadn't made it her business to make life miserable for everyone else at the camp.

"I suppose," Scott said.

"Thank you, Scott," replied Ronda.

The two of them made their way down the camp road, and back toward town. They knew, however, that they probably wouldn't get there until after dark under the best of circumstances. It was, after all, a twenty mile walk, and it the temperature wasn't doing them, or anyone else any favors.

"I hope you've got something to beat this heat," Scott said.

"Yeah, I do," Ronda said, and brought two cans of soda out of her purse. As she was getting them out, something else fell to the road, and she bent to pick it up.

"What's that?" Scott asked.

"Oh, just a little something I stole from Jimmy the jerk," answered Ronda.

"What?" Scott inquired.

"Oh, just some weed," Ronda replied, "I didn't want him, Donna, or Christine to have it all."

"Why'd you come up here with them?" Scott asked, "you could have asked Johnny to let you ride with us."

"Johnny doesn't like me," Ronda said, "and Ann probably doesn't either."

"The only thing I ever heard Ann say about you," Scott said, "was that she couldn't understand why you came with Jimmy."

"I didn't really want to," Ronda said, "but it was the only way I could get away from my nasty, dirty, abusive parents."

"I don't think Ann doesn't like you," Scott said, "and I don't think the others don't like you either. After all, no one ever said anything bad about you. They're saving all that for dirty Donna of the nasty stink."

"Oh, God," Ronda said, "please don't even bring that bitch's name into it. I hate her with a passion. Come to that, I wish she'd just hurry up, and die."

"So does the rest of the world," Scott said.

As the storm approached, Ronda reached for Scott's hand.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked.

"I never liked thunder," replied Ronda, "it always scares me."

"Don't worry," Scott said, "I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

"I worry," Ronda said, "if it's getting ready to do what I think it is, we'll need somewhere to wait it out, and I don't see any houses."

"Well," Scott said, "there is this place I know."

The place in question turned out to be the remains of a house someone had built, and then forgotten about. There was no power, no running water, and no glass in the windows, but at least it was dry. The place looked as if it would be the perfect place for ghosts, haunts, witches, werewolves, and monsters of all kinds, in fact, it looked exactly like the kind of place in which the type of thing Brenda believed concerning the supposed family who had been butchered in their beds by a passing maniac, had, at one time, actually happened, but it served Scott, and Ronda's purposes.

After the storm let up, they left their shelter, and continued their interrupted journey, but before they reached the town proper, they saw three motorcycles approaching them.

"Oh, no," groaned Ronda, "it's Fox, Loco, and Ali."

"Oh, don't worry about them," Scott said, "they're not all that bad."

"It's not that," Ronda said, "I still owe them for some weed I bought."

"Hey, Ronda," called one of the bikers, a black girl of about fourteen, " don't worry about the weed. We consider you a good customer. Ali won't kick your ass."

"Thanks Fox," Ronda said, relief showing in both her face, and voice.

"hey," called another of the three bikers, this one older than the others, " what you doing out in this mess?"

"Well," replied Scott, "Ann, and a few of us decided to go to Camp Crystal Lake for a week, and one of the idiots who came with us ran Johnny's van out of gas."

"Fox," said the older biker, presumably Ali, "help the girl up. Loco, take Scotty."

A few minutes later, thanks to Fox, Loco, and Ali, the gas for the van was purchased, as was some additional food. The five teens were just about to mount the bikes, when an all too familiar pair of figures emerged from Miller's Country Store, and Quick Fill.

"Aw fuck," Ali said, "it's the stupid ass couple."

"What'd you say about me, you nigger?" Ethel nearly screamed.

"Yeah," Junior screamed in turn, "what'd you say bout my mama?"

"I said," replied Ali, who was not in the slightest affected by the racial slur, "that you're the two dumbest fucks in town, and that you don't know how to even act like humans."

"You shut up, nigger!" Ethel shouted, "and get back in your fucken place!"

"You tell em ma!" Junior shouted.

"Oh, my God," Fox said, "it's not bad enough we have a fucken storm tonight, we've got to deal with those two assholes."

"Let's get em," Loco said conversationally, reaching into the saddlebag on the left side of his motorcycle, and bringing out a heavy chain. He wound it around his right fist, and said, "Come on, you dumb cunt. I'd love to lay this up side your fucken head."

"Don't you come near me, nigger," Ethel said, eyeing the chain, "I got a bomb on me. I swear to you! You make one move toward me, I'm gonna blow us all up!"

"That's right!" Junior screamed, "my mama's gonna blow you all up, and then she's gonna chop you up into itty bitty pieces, my friend!"

"Yeah, right," Loco retorted, raising his chain wrapped fist, "let's see it, then. Blow us all up, you stupid ass bitch!"

"Did you notice?" Scott whispered to Ronda,

"he didn't include himself in being blown up."

"What does he think?" Ronda whispered back, "does he think that Ethel's supposed bomb's going to exclude him from the effects of the blast?"

"He must," Scott whispered, "and she's gonna chop us up into itty bitty pieces after she blows us up."

"She can't," Ronda whispered, laughing a bit, "she said she was gonna blow us all up, and included herself in that number."

"Maybe," snickered Scott, "her pieces will chop our pieces into ittier, bittier pieces."

"Does their family tree even come close to forking?" Ronda asked, her laughter beginning to break through in earnest.

"I really don't think so," Scott replied, and then began laughing out loud himself

Ethel, meanwhile, took no notice of the whispered conversation taking place mere feet from her, looked for a moment at the chain, and apparently decided that she didn't want her skull grooved that night, shoved Junior toward their dirt bike, told him to start the engine, or as she put it, "the engines," and went roaring off, clinging madly to Junior, as the dirt bike peeled out, splattering the five teens with mud.

"That fucking bitch!" Ali exclaimed, "don't she know how much this jacket cost?"

"I don't think either she, or that moron she calls a son care," Scott commented.

After a few minutes spent getting the mud off their clothes, the five teens continued their somewhat interrupted trip back to the camp. When they arrived, Scott, and Ronda were more than a bit shocked to hear no punk rock coming from Jimmy's Party Pad.

"I wonder what the hell happened to stop the noise down there," Ronda said.

"I don't know," Scott replied, "hopefully they got some sense, and left."

"Who's they?" Fox inquired.

"Jimmy Palmer, and his not so merry band of noisemakers," answered Scott.

"Too bad they left, if they did," Ali said, "he still owes us for the grass he bought last week."

"If I know Jimmy like I think I do," Ronda said, "you'll still be waiting for that money when you're in Crystal Point Retirement Home."

"Where the hell's everyone else?" Ronda asked.

"I don't know," Scott answered, "but if they're smart, they went in out of the rain."

Before the conversation could proceed any further, a voice spoke from almost directly behind Scott.

"Hi there, Scotty Wotty."

"Oh, shit fire, and save matches," groaned Scott, "if it's not Ethel, and Junior, it's Donna of the eternally running mouth."

"What's that bitch doing up here?" Ali asked.

"Making the rest of our lives miserable," Ann said, emerging from the woods, with Mike, and Joan right behind her.

"Hey, Doll," Loco said with a smile, "Scotty, and Ronda didn't tell us you were up here."

"Well," said Ann, "we didn't know you'd be coming up here either."

"I only wish Donna hadn't come up here with you," Ali said, "I thought we were done with idiots tonight."

"We're far from done with idiots up here," Mike said, "Jimmy, and the jackasses are still up here somewhere, and although they're quiet now, just wait till they get batteries for their noise box."

"Why would they need batteries?" Scott asked.

"The storm put the power out," Mike replied.

"I heard there was a generator up here somewhere," Ali said, "why don't we get that going."

"That thing hasn't been run in years," Mike said, "You might as well ask Ethel not to be a stupid bitch."

"I think we could get it working," Ali said, "just give us some time with it."

"And if we hear cussing from the direction of the generator shed," commented Mike, "we'll know you had zero success."

"No," replied Ali, "that's not how you'll know. The way you'll know is if we take the generator out of the shed, and throw it in the lake."

"That's water polluting," Donna said.

"Oh, shut up, Woodsy," Mike said.

"Who?" Ann asked.

"Woodsy Owl," Mike replied, "you know, that stupid cartoon bird who's always going on about pollution on TV."

"I don't watch cartoons," Ann said.

"Woodsy isn't a cartoon," Mike said, "he's just a character in a commercial."

"Awe, ain't dat tute?" Donna asked in her baby voice, "Mikey Wikey wikes tartoons. Sood I det oo a baba now?"

"Can someone please cut out her tongue?" Fox asked, "I haven't been up here five minutes yet, and I already want her dead."

"I don't think you'd succeed in cutting her tongue out," Johnny said, as he, and Brenda emerged from the cabin they had been in, "the knife you use to do the job would rust, fall to pieces, and then turn to dust."

"And what's that disease called, oh Doctor Johnny?" Mike inquired.

"Oh," replied Johnny, "you didn't know? It's called, Dirty Donna Knifeitus."

"Oh, shut up, Johnny Wonny," Donna shouted in the baby voice, which was doing a good job of getting on the nerves of everyone at the camp, "oo just wanna fuck me."

"I most certainly wouldn't want to fuck you, you nasty, dirty, smelly, stinky, filthy, trashy cunt!" Johnny said in disgust.

"And the adjectives are flying fast, and furious," laughed Mike.

"Excellent grammar," remarked Ann.

"Thank you, thank you," Mike said, dancing from side to side as if he were performing for a large audience, "I knew I'd win the bad grammar award one of these years."

"How much did you have to drink today?" Johnny asked.

"Nothing so far," Mike said, "the only thing jimmy, and his resident noisemakers brought was beer, and I can't stand the taste of that stuff."

"Well," Ann said, "I brought something better than beer."

"What did you bring?" Mike asked.

"A couple bottles of wine," answered Ann.

"How did you get that?" Brenda inquired.

"My, er, Mother, and Father sell it in their pitiful excuse for a store," Ann answered.

"I'm surprised Doctor Sloppenstein didn't get into that too," Mike commented.

"He doesn't drink alcoholic beverages," replied Ann, "at least, not any more."

"Really?" Joan asked, "I'd have thought he was plastered all the time, considering the way he goes merrily slopping around that, um, store, is it?"

"No," answered Ann, "he goes slopping around that, er, store when he's perfectly sober. When he's loaded, he tries to molest fourteen-year-olds, rolls about on the ground, and pukes down his shirt."

"Oo!" Mike exclaimed, "I didn't need to know about King Slob's drinking, nondrinking, and post drinking habits!"

"Sorry," Ann said.

At that moment, a babble of loud voices came from the generator shed, consisting mostly of various swear words, followed by a series of metallic thumps.

"Looks like Ali, and company couldn't get the genny working," Mike said, "I sort of knew they wouldn't."

"Great," Brenda groaned, "how am I going to run my boom box now?"

"Don't you have batteries?" Mike asked.

"No I don't," Brenda answered, "I didn't have enough money to get any."

"What did you spend it all on," Joan inquired.

"What else?" Mike asked in his turn, "the kind of magazines that have stories in them about three headed, four armed, five eyed, six eared, seven legged, eight bodied aliens landing in some out of the way place, and giving a bunch of dumb rednecks candy cigarettes, or chocolate cigars."

"What?" cried Ann.

"Oh, you didn't know?" Mike inquired, "that's what any aliens worth their nuclear salt do."

"Well," Ann mused, "remind me never to finish up in any out of the way places inhabited by rednecks."

"Don't worry," Mike said, "Ethel's not here."

"I hope she never comes up here," Johnny said, "if she did, we'd all die of contagious stupidity."

"We don't need Ethel to give that to us," Mike said, "we've got Donna to give us that."

"Really?" Johnny asked, "I thought she'd give us terminal stinkitus."

"That too," Mike said.

As this conversation was going on, Ali, Fox, and Loco apparently gave the generator up as a lost cause, and came out of the shed.

"There's only one way I know of to get the power back on," Ali said, "we're headed back to town now."

"What?" asked Ann, "you just got here."

"We're getting you guys a new genny," Ali answered.

"You better hope the hardware store's still open," Ronda said.

"Oh, it is," replied Fox.

"How do you know that?" Mike asked, "it must be about five O'clock."

"My Daddy runs it," answered Fox, "and he never closes it till six."

"How on Earth are you carrying a generator on three motorbikes?" Johnny inquired.

"Hey, Johnny, my man," Loco said, "can we borrow your van? We'll get more gas for it."

"Brenda, and I will come along," Johnny answered, "usually, nobody drives the Princess but me."

"The Princess?" Ann asked.

"I suppose," Mike said.

"Why does he call that van the Princess?" Ann inquired.

"I'm not sure," Mike replied, "but I guess it's better than Nelly, or Betsy."

"Who names their vehicles that?" Joan asked.

"My Mother, for one," Mike replied, "she calls her car Nelly, and my Father's truck Betsy."

"I always knew there was something seriously wrong with those two, apart from the way they dressed," Ann said, "but I guess I never knew just how serious their problems were."

"You're lucky," Mike said, "you don't have to live with them, and hear them going on about either the names of their respective vehicles, or how everyone, but them is going to hell, and will burn for ever, and ever, without even so much as a fan, an air conditioner, or a decent glass of Pepsi."

"I'd leave," Johnny said, as he, Brenda, Ali, Fox, and Loco walked toward the van, "if my parents ever started doing that, I'd leave. Just pack up the Princess, and hit the road."

"You're also lucky," Mike called, "you're sixteen, able to drive, and not afflicted with crazy Christians who belong in a mental institution for parents."

The van pulled out of the camp parking lot a couple minutes later, and Mike, Joan, Ann, Ronda, and Scott turned toward the cabins.

"Well," Mike said, "what do we do while we're waiting for them to get back?"

"What do you say about a game of cards?" Joan asked.

"After the way you beat my ass last night?" Mike asked.

"Oh, come on," Joan replied, "you liked it."

"Yeah, and so did you," laughed Mike, "after all, it was me who lost the most clothing."

"What kind of card game were you playing?" Ann asked.

"A variation of strip poker," Mike answered, "only blackjack."

"You're usually good at blackjack," Ann said, "why were you losing so badly."

"I kept taking too many cards," Mike answered.

"I personally think Johnny was stacking the deck," whispered Joan.

"Why would he do that in a moneyless game?" Mike asked.

"You weren't the only one who kept losing," Joan replied, "Brenda lost worse than you by a long shot."

"Well," Mike said, "I guess since he's not here, it's safe to get a game going."

After Ann, the boy who read stories, and the girl who fixed people's hair left his place, Jason returned to the cabin at the bottom of the hill, entered, and lifted the bodies of the two bad people from the blood-soaked bunk. He carried them out of the cabin, and into the woods, adding them to the dead pile.

He finished moving the bodies just in time to hear the blue van starting up, and driving away. He assumed that whoever was in the van was going back to town to get even more gas for it, and maybe some other things as well. He didn't know what those other things could be, but he guessed he'd find out when the van came back.

Meanwhile, he needed to return to his place, and eat. He had successfully trapped a large deer earlier in the day, and he was more than just a bit hungry. He thought everything would be all right at the main camp for at least a while, and so, for the time being, he wasn't needed.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

This chapter departs somewhat from the style of the story so far. It consists of a journal entry written by one of the main characters two years after the events in the main story take place.

Although the journal entry in question is from 1984, there are no spoilers here, but there is a brief history of events in Chrystal Lake, leading up to Pamela Voorhees's original rampage.

I hope it turns out well, since it's somewhat difficult for me to think, and write like a teen-ager, since I was last one at around the time the 1980s ended. If it turns out well, thank what I remember from my own teen-age years, and if it doesn't, blame what got lost during the intervening time.

Interlude.

Chrystal Lake, 1984

The following material has been reproduced from the journal of Mike Richards.

July 6, 1984.

Chrystal Lake. I guess, in a lot of ways, it's just like half a hundred small towns in this country of ours, but in many ways, it's very, very different. People live, eat, sleep, fuck, shit, piss, drink, and everything else people in small towns do, and oh yes, they die. As a matter of fact, they do an awful lot of that here.

Shortly after the town of Chrystal Lake was founded, a group of town's people decided that they didn't like the fact that there was a Native American village not twenty miles from the town proper, right where Camp Chrystal Lake would eventually be built, in fact, and so they decided, in all the wisdom of the white race, I use the word "wisdom" sarcastically, to wipe them all out.

In 1931, over two hundred people were in the Chrystal Lake Theater, watching the original Frankenstein, when the theater caught fire. Nobody knows what caused that particular example of out of control oxidation, but whatever the cause, the result was over two hundred deaths, in other words, everyone in the theater. Not all the victims died of burns, or smoke inhalation, though. Most of them died when the newly installed fire doors malfunctioned, trapping those lucky enough to get out of the theater proper, in the soon to be defunct lobby. They started piling up against the door, and just kept on doing it, causing what would become known as the largest crowd crush in Wessex County.

In 1940, a six-month old boy was abandoned in the woods near the lake, and left for dead. Twenty-eight years later, he resurfaced, as an animalistic killer, known as the Bushman. He killed nearly fifteen people, before he was chopped to pieces with his own machete.

In 1957, eleven-year old Jason Voorhees was thrown into Chrystal Lake by a gang of twelve, or more kids his own age, and drowned. Afterwards, the kids made a pledge that they would never speak of what they'd done, even on their deathbeds, and so far; they've all kept that pledge.

In 1958, Pamela Voorhees, Jason's Mother, killed the two councilors who were supposed to be keeping an eye on proceedings at the lake, but who were engaging in a little drunken slap, and tickle, instead, not to mention, ignoring the noises they were hearing from the direction of the lake, as those twelve, or more kids shoved a burlap sack over Jason's head, chanting "freak show," and threw him into the lake, and watched him drown.

In 1975, a man named Daryl Lawson, a very stable individual by all accounts, punched his final time card, went home, got a chainsaw out of his tool shed, walked into his house, and murdered his entire family. Police at the scene said that if they'd used a different stretcher for every piece, they'd have been there until at least 1978.

In 1979, Steve Christy reopened Camp Chrystal Lake, and he, and six of the councilors he'd hired to get the place ready were killed, but if you're reading this, you already know all about that incident.

Is there a death curse on Chrystal Lake? Is this a doomed town I'm now spending my seventeenth year in? Is it the destiny of everyone, or everyone of a certain age, personality type, and habit pattern in this town to pay for what was done to Jason all those years ago? If you'd asked me that two years ago, before I went to Camp Chrystal Lake with Ann, Johnny, Brenda, Scott, Joan, and the others, I'd have said "no," but thanks to things I've seen, things I've found, and things I've learned, I'm beginning to believe that the answer is probably "yes."

Chrystal Lake, a town just like any other, but at the same time, not like any other town you've ever seen. In Chrystal Lake, the incidents of child abuse, rape, insanity, incest, murder, and all manner of human degeneration are twenty times greater than in any other town of comparable size in America. It's like there's a huge magnet deep in the ground, that draws people like Ethel Hubbard, Harold Miller, and those brats who drowned Jason just because he looked different, from all over the country, and what do they do once they arrive? Why, just as many nasty, disgusting things as they can. But that's nothing new, as I've already illustrated above. Chrystal Lake has a long, and extremely bloody history, not to put too fine a point on it.

So, what does Jason, or the Voorhees family have to do with any of this? Elias Voorhees was born in Dunwich Massachusetts, on Halloween night, 1915. He met Pamela Whateley, yeah, soon to be Voorhees, some time in 1945. Jason, as far as I can piece together, was conceived shortly before the couple was to be married. They stayed in Dunwich, at least until June 13, 1946, the day of Jason's birth. For reasons I've already set down in these pages, the Voorheeses had to relocate, so as not to have their son killed out of hand as a monster, Devil's spawn, or something remarkably similar. They lived quietly here in Chrystal Lake until that day in June in 1957, when Jason drowned. After that, the Voorheeses separated, but Pamela didn't go insane right away, if she ever did.

In 1958, after the double murder, Pamela Voorhees utilized some of the magic Elias had taught her to attempt the resurrection of her son, endowing the water of Chrystal Lake with magical properties, among them, regenerative, and resurrective properties, but only for those who have the bad, or not so bad luck to drown in it.

How do I know this? Well, Jason is living in the woods near the camp, isn't he? Ann's still alive, isn't she? And others are still alive too.

I suppose I should put Ann's story down on paper. I've only been writing in this damned thing to continue what Pamela Voorhees started, all the way back in Dunwich back in 45, when she began collecting all those accounts of strange events. Events, that Brenda probably wouldn't even believe, and that's saying something, considering what she does believe.

Ann, if that's even her original name, was brought to Chrystal Lake, in 1968, by two of the biggest assholes in Springwood Ohio, or at least one of the two. Her Mother, deciding that she didn't want to be encumbered with a blind daughter, threw her, as a baby into Chrystal Lake, and was killed immediately afterward by the Bushman, who pulled the baby out of the lake, and took care of her, as best he could, until he was killed. Shortly after his death, the baby was found by Pamela Voorhees, who adopted her, and cared for her for the next eleven years. During that time, Pamela taught her everything she knew, including more magical knowledge than can be fit into your average Necronomicon. Then, of course, the whole thing with Steve Christy reopening Camp Chrystal Lake happened, Pamela was killed, and at first, Elias Voorhees took care of Ann, for what little time she spent outside Pinehurst, that is. He would have taken her in after she got out, but he finished up as the guest of honor at a six-car pile up, and finished up in Chrystal Lake General.

So, Ann ended up with the two sloppiest, loudest, dirtiest people in town, apart from Ethel, and Junior, that is, at least until Elias Voorhees got out of the hospital 18 months ago.

Were Harold, and Edna mad? Believe me! You probably could have heard them all the way into Cunningham County, just like everyone in that particular patch of land probably heard Kris Parker, and her parents going at it a month before we went to the camp for a week's vacation, and our lives changed forever.

I mentioned a few paragraphs back, that I didn't think Pamela Voorhees went insane at the end. There's a reason for that. Recently, Ann let me see, and copy from one of Pamela Voorhees's journals. This one wasn't a collection of notes on something that happened back in the 20s, or 30s in some town in Massachusetts. This journal was written by Pamela Voorhees, and dealt with what started to happen from the moment Steve Christy announced that he was reopening the camp.

Not to put too fine a point on it, she ended up possessed by a demon. Something, the thing that tried to kill Ann in the lake two years ago, "That Bitch," Pamela's spirit called it, discovered the power potential in the water of Chrystal Lake, thanks to what Pamela had done in 58, and started leaching from it, growing stronger, and stronger in the process. Pamela was a witch, and an extremely powerful one too, but even her magical knowledge, combined with that of Ann, or whatever her original name was, couldn't hold it back forever.

According to Pamela's journal, the thing grew so strong, that at midnight, just as June 12, 1979 was becoming June 13, it got into her, and used her to kill Steve Christy, and the others, not that Pamela wrote the last entry in the journal. Ann wrote that one. She told how she, and Pamela had spent the last hour of Pamela's actual life as herself, sitting on the porch swing, smoking, reminiscing, and watching the clock, or rather, Pamela's watch.

After Pamela was killed, though, it had a surprise coming, oh did it ever? It thought it could jump straight from Pamela to Jason, possessing an indestructible, unkillable, superhumanly strong body, but it found itself, as Elias Voorhees said to Ann, "with another guess coming." Instead of being able to possess Jason, it was trapped in the lake, somewhat like the second spawn of the Gardner meteorite was chained to the old well, and the roots of the trees that surrounded the Blasted Heath.

That's not to say it was totally powerless, though. It certainly had enough power to take physical form long enough to try to kill Ann, and what about that weed she said caught around her ankle the previous night. Johnny said, when Ann told us what happened to her the night she first met Jason, that there were no waterweeds in that part of the lake. Ann told him that Jason tore it off her ankle, and we all believed her, but where the fuck did the torn weed go? We would have seen it floating on the surface of the lake. There was no wind what so ever before the storm hit that day, and the lake was so calm, you could have mistaken it for a sheet of glass. There was no way in hell that weed could have gone anywhere, but there was no sign of it, either then, or later.

Is Jason in danger of becoming possessed by that thing? I really don't think so. He's far too strong for it. Sure, he kills, but the people he kills wouldn't be considered any loss to society, if the things they did were known.

Jimmy Palmer, Andy Franklin, Chandra Davis, Beth Porter, and Christine Sonders were involved in some pretty nasty shit, and I don't mean the drinking, and dope smoking. I, much to the horror, and disgust of my Christian parents, have had the odd drink, and smoked the odd joint, and I'm quite definitely not a virgin, but I'm still alive, so are Joan, Scott, Ronda, Johnny, Brenda, and especially Ann.

Starting in the spring of 82, school-age children started getting raped. None of them could identify their attackers, since they all wore masks, but after Jimmy, and his friends met Jason's machete, a great many pictures were found. Pictures of the kids actually getting gang raped. Jimmy kept them, and probably got off on them.

And that brings me back to what I said a couple pages back. What teen-agers, at least normal ones, get off on that kind of crap? I don't think anything like that could happen, even in the next town over, but here, things like that happen all the time. I've noticed that since I started researching Chrystal Lake's history. People just aren't the same here as they are anywhere else. Where else could you find, for example, someone like Ethel, or Junior?

Ethel Hubbard started life somewhere in the south, but moved here, together with her family, some time in the 40s. They lived on that little shit splat farm that she, and junior still live on, until Ethel took a cleaver to her parents one night. As she so often says, she "chopped them into itty, bitty, little pieces my friend." Thanks to there being no real communication out that way at the time, she got away with it. It wasn't the police who eventually found the bodies. It was Elias Voorhees. Why he didn't turn her in is beyond me, but he probably had a reason, as he does for everything he does, or has ever done.

After taking care of her family, Ethel, and her brother continued to work the farm, at least until her brother got some sense, and blew town one day. Shortly after that, Ethel gave birth to Junior, and I kid you not, that's the only name on his birth certificate. There are some, such as Joan, who wonder if the Hubbard family tree forks, and I can tell them beyond the shadow of a doubt, that it definitely doesn't. Junior is, in fact, the son of Ethel, and her brother, as sick as that sounds, but neither one of them seemed to have a problem with it, at least until her brother left town, if he ever really left. It's entirely possible that she killed him, just like she did her parents, and buried him somewhere.

There are other things too, like the fact that people with psychic gifts have a habit of finishing up here. People like Ralph, for instance. We all called him "Crazy Ralph," but he's far from crazy. According to Elias Voorhees, his mind is bent a little, but that's due to his uncontrolled second sight, which only shows him the bad, and never the good. He foretells doom, because that's all he sees, and since he does actually have "the sight," I wonder how true all his warnings about a death curse are, especially since some guy from out of town, a guy named Paul Holt, is about to open a councilor training center right next door to Camp Chrystal Lake. If he actually does it, may the gods have pity on him, and whoever comes up there with him.

Jason's work isn't done. The people he killed two years ago were nowhere near enough for the sacrifice required to restore Pamela Voorhees to life, and whoever goes to that training center is fair game as far as Jason is concerned. Ralph will probably try to warn them away, but they won't listen to him, and they probably wouldn't listen to us if we tried either. Gods help them. Gods help them all!


End file.
